Time In A Bottle
by Hephaestus01
Summary: A glimpse into the future of the Bat family as they confront old enemies and new beginnings. Bruce is about to get a total life makeover, whether he wants it or not. I absolutely live for reviews.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He hated these things. Sipping ginger ale from a champagne flute and smiling foppishly at bottle blondes was not, and never had been, his idea of a good time. Sighing, he tried to keep the idiotic smile plastered on his face as another woman explained the advantages of marriage to him. They didn't get it, he thought. He was a few years past fifty and he still hadn't married. He wondered why they thought he would change his no marriage policy.

Excusing himself as politely as he possibly could while still acting like an idiot, he made sure he stumbled just a bit on his way to the balcony. Convincing people he was too drunk to stand was normally a good way to get excused by midnight. Sighing, he slipped onto the balcony and closed the glass French doors now separating him from he gaudy party. Grimacing, he saw that he was not alone on the balcony.

In addition to the starlight, there was a rather stunning blonde, definitely not of the bottle variety, staring into the heavens contemplatively. Swallowing the annoyance rising in his throat, he took a deep breath and turned to go back to the party. It was only ten thirty, no one would believe he was drunk enough to leave yet. He turned at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The woman had a lovely smile and she was directing it right at him now that he had turned in her direction again.

Remembering his manners, he smiled and took a few steps closer to her. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's not my balcony," She said with a self deprecating shrug of her shoulders and a slight smile. "Really, join me, if you like."

Nodding, he joined her by the ledge and listened to her sigh. She was at least in her thirties, maybe forties, Bruce thought. She was beautiful and had certainly aged gracefully. The tiny lines by her eyes looked like they were from laughing and the dreamy look in her eyes did not belong to a woman of her years.

"Bruce Wayne." He extended his hand and watched as a genuine smile came to her face as she accepted it.

"I know. I work with Leslie. She has your picture on her desk."

He opened his mouth to say something intelligent and thought better of it. After almost thirty years of playing this role, he thought, it had never really gotten any easier. Acting the opposite of the genius he was grated on his nerves even after all this time. Instead of something intelligent and interesting, he instead smiled rakishly and leaned a little closer.

"I haven't seen you at the clinic before."

He was expecting a frown or maybe a polite excuse to leave. His body language was screaming that he was about to become inappropriate with her. To his mild surprise, though, she laughed.

Lifting her head back, she laughed a wonderfully musical and hearty laugh. Smiling, she turned to face him again and leaned her back against the railing. In the light cast from the ballroom, he could now see her dress and body. The dress was an emerald color, cut deeply but not immodestly. It hung on her figure gracefully and accentuated her curves wonderfully without making her look wanton as many of the other females in his company that night did.

"Leslie told me you'd use some kind of line. That was pretty bad, though." She glanced at her shoes for just a second as she slipped a stray piece of hair behind her ears. "Connie Marsters. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

He almost smiled genuinely despite himself. Catching the wayward expression before it could reach his face; he instead tried to look a little sheepish. "Well, I'm sure she's told you a lot of rather unsavory things about me."

"On the contrary, Mr. Wayne, she speaks very highly of you. I didn't think your reputation was entirely true, but I might have been mistaken." The smirk on her face told him she was flirting with him.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why an intelligent woman would flirt with Bruce Wayne. His brain started categorizing different ways the encounter would play out, and most them ended badly. Some scenarios ended with her being evil in some way. Probably a plant person sent by Ivy to marry him, he thought.

"I think my reputation is a little exaggerated. Tabloids want to sell papers, you know." He took a sip of his faux champagne while he decided the best course of action to take. "How do you work with Leslie?" He figured recon was his best option.

"I'm a doctor at Gotham General. I just moved here last year from Boston. Leslie and I started to work together not long after that. I volunteer a few nights a week at her clinic."

"What brings you here, then?" His arm swept the expanse of the balcony, indicating the ballroom and party beyond the glass doors.

Smiling, she rubbed her hands on her arms. He could see that she was cold, fine blonde hairs stood on end on her arms. "Benefit for cancer research always draws doctors. At least, that's what my boss said when she ordered me to go to this thing."

Slipping his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders, he smiled at her and leaned against the edge of the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze that blew through his cotton shirt. "You're here against your will?"

"Well, the night is starting to look up. It's not every night I get to stand with gorgeous billionaires and watch them undress for me."

Dignity and excellent manners, as beat into his head by Alfred, prevented him from spitting out the soda that was in his mouth. Instead, he swallowed calmly and set the glass down. Turning to her, he cocked his head a little, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I don't think we've reached the undressing phase yet. Though feel free to start, if you wish."

She laughed again and he had to tell himself that a grown woman biting her bottom lip the way she was doing was not attractive. He didn't believe himself in the least because it was attractive. She was attractive. Her brown eyes danced and shown in the light and her lips had a sardonic, if not self deprecating, tilt to them.

"I'm not against undressing. The photographs I would undoubtedly see tomorrow morning in the Gotham Herald though make me think twice about doing it out here."

Intelligent women flirted with him when he was Batman. All of those intelligent women tended to be on the wrong side of the law, though. If not evil, they at least wanted to take over the world or remake mankind in their image. Bruce Wayne had few dealings with women that didn't giggle stupidly at jokes that weren't funny or touch his arm and lean their cleavage into him every chance they got.

The thought of the last woman he had been intimate with that had half a brain made him wince a little. Vesper's face floated in his mind and he suddenly wanted to go to his cave and brood. The years had not dulled the pain of that fiasco, he realized grudgingly. Swallowing those thoughts, he lifted his glass again, his appetite for flirtation suddenly quenched.

"It was nice talking to you Dr. Marsters."

The confusion on her face was evident. "Did I do something wrong?" She took a step forward as if to follow him, but stopped as he turned and shook his head.

"No. You're lovely. I…I need to get back to the party. There are lots of women willing to undress in there."

Turning on his heel, he winced internally at the coldness of his last comment. She hadn't deserved that kind of rudeness, not at all. Shaking himself mentally, he told himself that it was for her own good. Flirting would lead to sex and that would lead to him breaking her heart. He found he was growing tired of that cycle in his old age.

Sighing, he went through the next hour, drinking bubbly soda and pretending to get drunk. It was before midnight when one of his business associates quietly suggested he go home. In the car, he allowed himself to frown as his face pulled itself into the visage of Batman.

"Interesting night, sir?" Alfred's voice had a inflection of amusement.

"You could say that, Alfred." It was a few moments more before he spoke again. "Has Leslie mentioned a Dr. Connie Marsters to you?"

He paused to think a moment before answering. "No, Master Bruce, I cannot say that she has. Would you like me to inquire after the young woman?"

He mumbled an unintelligible response and leaned his chin against his fist. He couldn't think about a woman, he told himself. There were more important things to do. Looking up at the sky, his eye brows drew together as his frown deepened.

Alfred did not miss the signal shining against the clouds either. "Shall I drop you off at one of your miniature caves, sir?"

"That would be fine, Alfred."

No time for women, he told himself. Gotham city was his wife and she was a jealous partner. No one else could hope to compete for time with his city, he thought. Especially beautiful and flirtatious doctors.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A concussion and two bruised ribs were not the normal ending to his nights. He had seen his fair share of injuries, but they were not a nightly occurrence. Pulling the body armor over his head, he winced. It felt as though his chest was on fire with every breath he took. Swallowing hard, he looked at the clock. He was two hours earlier than normal; Alfred would still be asleep.

Being thrown off a building and onto a moving car was enough to convince him to retire early for the night. The building had only been three stories, but he was glad to have gotten away with the light injuries he had. Under the layers of Kevlar and body armor, he sported a few rather large bruises on his back and chest.

Pulling the bottom half of his armor off, he changed into track pants and a t-shirt and starting stretching. He had an inkling that if he didn't stretch his sore back, he wouldn't be able to stand after sitting down at his computer. Since Bane had broken his back ten years ago, he had been forced to stretch before and after being sedentary for any period time of time. It made stake outs very difficult.

Swallowing a few ibuprofens for the swelling, he took a seat in front of the Cray computers and started categorizing his nightly activity. The criminal element was never going to learn not to smuggle guns through Gotham city, he thought. Another faction of the gun cartel had been destroyed tonight, along with a few warehouses and a quarter of the city's docks. He thought it was a small price to pay to stop more arms from reaching street dealers.

A small shuffle alerted him to someone else in the cave. Wearing a red bathrobe over his striped pajamas and slippers on his feet, Alfred looked more than a little out of place in the cave. Bruce almost smiled.

"Early night, sir?" Lowering his aging body into a nearby chair, Alfred relaxed his rigid spine for a moment.

Bruce had a look of pain on his face, but it was not due to his physical ailments. Alfred was eighty-two; Bruce winced when he thought about the odd hours his butler kept due to him. He wanted Alfred to rest at least a few hours a night, it wasn't good for the aging man to sleep in short bursts as he so often was forced to do.

"Blew up much of the waterfront. It was quiet after that."

"I am glad to see your safe return, Master Bruce."

Turning back to his work, Bruce frowned for a moment. Not ceasing in his typing, he took a slow breath before talking to Alfred. He ignored his friend's mortality ninety-nine percent of the time; it was rare that he spoke to Alfred of such imminent things.

"You look stiff."

"An aging body, young sir."

Regarding the back of his charge's head, he almost let out a very ungentlemanly sigh but refrained himself at the last moment. The thought of leaving Bruce alone was almost unbearable. Even Master Richard and Miss Barbara and their two children would not be enough for Master Bruce, Alfred feared. The idea of the man he regarded in many rights as a son coming home to an empty house every morning and night grieved the aging butler.

"The mind is still agile, though, sir. Perhaps I can be of assistance with whatever it is you are working on."

His features relaxed for a brief moment. Alfred was fine, he told himself. "Gun smugglers. I took down the majority of the operation here in Gotham, but the people behind it are still at large."

With that, an hour of using Alfred as a sounding board began. After that point, both men had to stand to stretch their aching backs and shoulders. Steadily climbing the stairs, Bruce longed for the security of his own bed and a few hours of peaceful sleep. The morning rays of sun had yet to begin peaking through his window, and if he fell straight asleep, he would be able to get four hours or so of rest before his duties at Wayne Enterprises demanded his attention.

The routine of the past twenty odd years had not changed much. He showered before going to bed to rid himself of the grime of his city and showered when he woke to get feeling in his tired muscles. Alfred, having awoken earlier, had breakfast ready and on the eat-in island of the kitchen.

On the weekends, Tim would come by. Sometimes, Dick and Barbara brought the kids over. Cassie was there more often than not. She had been covering another sector of the city last night and Bruce suspected she had gotten in much later than he. Luscious had backed off on the body guard idea after Vesper's murder, but Bruce had hired Cassandra a few years ago anyway.

Bruce had felt it highly important after her return from working with The League of Assassins to try to lead somewhat of a normal life. She had said something about the pot calling the kettle black but had accepted the position. He could have created credentials for her had she the need to work somewhere else. She didn't need to work if she didn't want to; he would have supported her. The routine of daily living, though, was good for her, he thought. It was an odd situation at first, but they had soon fallen into a routine that suited both of them.

After finishing his computer sciences degree, it had seemed natural that Bruce's third adopted son come to work for Wayne Enterprises. After only a few years, Tim was heading the technology division. There was no one Bruce trusted more with the position.

"I believe Master Richard will be bringing Miss Mary and young Master James to visit tomorrow, Master Bruce."

Allowing the corners of his mouth to quirk up around his coffee cup, he couldn't help but be happy at the idea of seeing his grandchildren. As much as he had tried to keep others at a distance throughout his life, he had found it hard to demand that Dick and Barbara stop from getting married and having babies. Even though they had been forced to use a surrogate due to Barbara's condition, they had been determined to have a family. Bruce figured that after years of denying each other they were finally ready to settle down.

"I'm going to pick up a few things on my way home today from the office. I haven't seen them in two weeks." He spoke as if explaining the absence of contact would justify buying them gifts.

"I believe I heard Master Richard saying something along the lines that is was not fair how you spoil them."

Smirking, he glanced through the business section of the paper. "Dick's just jealous I don't buy him as many presents."

It was Alfred's turn to smirk. As he was about to say something witty as a comeback, Cass walked in and plopped herself onto a stool at the island.

"Morning."

One word was quite a bit for her before she had her coffee in the mornings.

Bruce nodded his greeting and frowned at the bruise above her left eye. It was seldom that her injuries were visible; she was normally very adept at managing to keep herself bruise free.

She saw his staring and immediately gave him her bet Batman glare. "I'll cover it."

He grunted acceptance and moved on to the paper again. Cassandra had been spending more time at the manor since coming to work for Bruce, but Alfred doubted her ability to care for him as he himself did. Sighing, Alfred turned to stirring milk into his tea with great concentration, pointedly ignoring the looks Bruce was giving him.

Standing, Bruce frowned once more at Alfred and rested his hand on Cass's shoulder for just a moment before starting towards his bedroom once again. If not for his adopted family, he had little doubt that he would be completely alone; he doubted Alfred would have survived the incredible stress of his life had it not been for the support of their family. Bruce sometimes thought that being around younger people had kept Alfred young throughout the years.

He had been getting softer in his old age, he thought. Showing affection to any member of his team was a rare thing, but lately he had found himself becoming sentimental. He blamed his grandchildren.

He and Cassandra drove silently into the city. She was texting someone with her Blackberry, completely ignoring everything else around her. She merely grunted when Bruce asked her who she was talking to. Frowning at himself, he realized that not long ago, he would have glared and growled until she answered him. Now, he rested his head against his fist and concentrated on the road.

Definitely the fault of his grandchildren. They were making him soft. He hadn't thought he would live past forty, really. The idea of having grandchildren, until Dick had deposited the twins in his arms the day of the birth, had been completely foreign to him. Shaking his head, he shrugged mentally and decided the only thing to do was to spoil them to such an extent that they would drive Dick mad, therefore giving Bruce his revenge for ruining his steely exterior. An excellent plan if he did say so himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The greeting to his secretary died on his lips when he saw the person waiting in the chairs outside his office. Stealing himself for a small argument and a resounding slap to the face, he smiled and held the door of his office open for her.

"Dr. Marsters. What a pleasant surprise."

She smiled a little knowingly. She had a way of smiling, he thought, in that her head tilted downwards and her eyes looked up. It was almost endearing. Kicking himself mentally, he sat behind his desk and extended his arm to one of the over stuffed chairs in front of the mahogany monster that was the centerpiece of the room.

"I'm sure it isn't a nice surprise. You ran off last night like I had two heads."

She looked amused, maybe a little berating. Certainly not angry. This was an expected turn of events. "I might have had a little too much to drink last night. I apologize if I said anything to offend you."

"Oh don't be silly."

Leaning back, she crossed her knees. Her black pants rode up a little bit to reveal more of her stilettos. She had worn those on purpose. Men liked them. Relaxing her arms onto the arm rests at her side she softened her posture enough to make herself look non-threatening.

"I just came by to make sure I didn't offend you. You left pretty suddenly."

Licking his suddenly dry lips, he smiled and leaned back in his chair. This was an interesting woman, he thought; she deserved more study. No, he told himself, she wasn't in a Petri dish in his cave. She couldn't be studied.

"You didn't offend me in the slightest. You were quite engaging, actually."

"Oh, so that's why you ran." At his raised eyebrow, she continued. "I spoke with too much of a brain, didn't I? You would rather me flash you a dead behind the eyes smile and a lot of breast, right? I mean, I could do that, I just don't think it's at all dignified."

A laugh escaped him despite himself. Quickly curtailing his sense of humor, he regarded the woman in front of him. She certainly had Bruce Wayne pegged, he thought.

"Leslie sent you as some sort of spy, right?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Yes. She wanted to make sure you were still up to no good."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before she cleared her throat and leaned forward. "Can I take you to lunch?"

"It's a little early for lunch, isn't it?"

"Well, I would say brunch, but you just got here and it's already ten-thirty. I figure you ate before you came in. I was thinking we could meet for lunch around one."

She looked so hopeful yet so pensive. He wondered how someone could master that particular facial expression. Hesitating a moment, he allowed his curiosity to win over caution and he nodded. "I would very much like to meet you."

After arranging a place and time, she smiled and left with a little wave of her hand. The rest of the morning passed quickly with a hated board meeting at eleven and a side bar conference with Luscious at twelve-thirty. He almost cursed when he saw that it was almost one o'clock, but eventually, he decided it would be best if he were late. Bruce Wayne was not known for his punctuality.

Sitting, tapping her knife against the table, she looked upset but resigned. He almost hated to break her from her trance. Clearing his throat, he smiled a little and took a seat, ordering a coffee from the waitress. She looked at him with a hint of reproach but quite a bit of amusement.

"I thought I was being stood up."

"Never. I may be late, but I get there eventually."

She smiled and sipped her water. Licking her lips, she glanced at the table and fiddled with her napkin for a moment. She seemed to decide something just before she looked up at him again.

"You're not as dumb as you pretend to be, right?"

Taken off guard by the question, he sipped his own water and thanked the waitress for the coffee she delivered. He was saved from answering her question as they both ordered entrées. The reprieve was short lived when she caught his eye again, an expectant look on her face.

"That isn't rhetorical, is it?"

"I'm afraid not."

Nodding, he considered his answer carefully but was sure to keep a look of bewilderment on his face. "Well, I don't think anyone likes to admit to stupidity."

She almost laughed. "You're a real character. Leslie said as much. She also said that you would break my heart."

Her continence was sure, almost happy at the idea, he thought. "Then why invite me to lunch? And I thought she spoke very highly of me."

"She does. She's also honest, though, and I can read the papers. Tabloids, anyway. You have a nefarious reputation."

"Nefarious? I haven't been called that before, I think." Swallowing half of his coffee in one gulp, he looked at her, making it clear he expected an answer to his first question.

She cleared her throat and accepted the salad that was put in front of her. Pushing around a few walnuts, she looked at him with a sudden predatory gleam. "I want to break your heart first."

His fork stopped in mid air. Not knowing entirely what to do with that information, he raised an eyebrow for a moment and started into his salad with silence. They ate for a few minutes without either speaking before she wiped her mouth with her napkin and looked up again.

Setting her chin on her hands, she rested her elbows on the table and smirked. "You don't give lunch meetings to everyone that walks into your office. Why did you accept my invitation?"

Swallowing, he leaned back for a moment and looked at her through lowered eyes. "It isn't everyday that a woman asks me for a date after I insult her."

"What makes you think this is a date?"

"What makes you think it isn't?"

Smiling, she tried to suppress her initial reaction of leaping across the table and ripping his shirt off. That could wait until the second date. Looking up at him, she noticed him wince as he shifted in his seat. Putting her fork down, she looked at him with concern.

"Are you alright?"

Realizing his mistake, he cursed himself and smiled his most playboy smile in her direction. "Polo injury. I was thrown from a horse last weekend. My shoulder's still a little sore."

He hadn't been favoring his shoulder, she thought. He had been wincing about his back. Ignoring the lie, she nodded and looked down into the salmon that had just arrived. She was more nervous than she had thought she would be. Seducing him had seemed easy when she had planned it. She had figured they would have been in bed together last night.

Seeing her look of concentration, he doubted that her fish had caused her sudden train of thought. She wore her mind on her sleeve. Pushing bits of his potato around on the plate, he frowned at the sudden thought of what Alfred would say about playing with his food. Setting the utensil down, he fixed her with a serious stare. She was too engrossed in her thoughts to pay any attention to him.

She finally looked up the second time he cleared his throat. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything. I was going to ask if you would mind if I left early. I have a meeting at three and I want to look over some things before then."

"You just love leaving me, don't you?"

He refused to say that it was a sign of things to come. He always ended up leaving them.

Laying a few bills down on the table that would more than pay for the two meals and the tip, he was suddenly unsure of how to leave her. A handshake felt too formal but a hug was out of the question. He settled for leaning down and kissing her cheek, a seductive smile curving his lips. She blushed a bit but looked more pleased than anything.

"I'll call your secretary to set up dinner." It wasn't a question. In fact, it sounded to his ears like a demand.

"I'd like that." Fighting the urge to bite his traitorous tongue, he smiled before turning on his heels. He was still hungry, but the sudden need to escape had overridden all else. Breathing deeply, he relaxed a little as he started the car.

He hadn't felt that hunted in a long time. He refused to admit that part of him liked the feeling. She was too dangerous, he thought. A woman like that could seduce him and it had bee a long time since he allowed himself the comfort of female companionship. Driving, he shook the cobwebs from his head. He had no time for pretty doctors, he reminded himself. Pretty doctors that hunted him and undressed him with their eyes were especially dangerous. He made a mental note to cancel their dinner date.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sighing, Cass leaned against Tim's desk and watched him cross out sentences with a red pen. The papers in front of him looked as though someone had bled on them. Sighing, she went to a place in her mind where she practiced martial arts combinations. Pulled from her reverie when he poked her in the ribs a few minutes later, she frowned at him.

"Stop that."

"Bruce is still at lunch?"

"Yeah. Pretty doctor."

She spoke in full sentences when she wanted to. Most of the time, she didn't want to. "Well, that's nice, I guess."

She scowled at him. "It's not nice! What's he doing with her anyway?"

Full sentences meant she was mad or worried. He thought she was leaning towards worried. "It's a lunch date, Cass. I don't think there are wedding bells chiming. Relax."

She was more protective of Bruce than she wanted to admit. They had all seen him get his heart broken enough to be wary of new women. Tim had also seen Bruce break enough hearts that he was worried for the woman as well. Looking at Cass with a look that clearly conveyed he thought she was crazy, he smirked a little.

"I think he can take care of himself."

"Bad taste in women." She smirked and a half a laugh escaped her lips. "Catwoman."

The one word was enough to remind Tim about Bruce's not so stellar choices in relationships. Shaking himself, he sighed. Selina was married to a private detective and had a preteen daughter; there was no reason to bring her into the conversation.

"He'll be fine. Maybe he'll lighten up for a while."

"And then he'll brood for weeks."

"Point."

Turning back to the design concept in front of him, he capped his pen and started to type a revised form of the document. The department wouldn't run itself, he thought. Glancing at Cass, he frowned. She looked coiled and ready to strike at an invisible opponent. Not much made his nervous, but a jumpy Batgirl ranked somewhere on the short list.

"Don't you have somewhere to be? Like, somewhere other than here?"

A pout came to her face and he had to roll his eyes. She was not a pouter. Watching her stalk away, he shook his head. She was as suspicious as Bruce. Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked at the screen one last time before diving into typing again. Bruce could handle himself, Tim was sure.

Cassandra stalked outside his office. Once and a while the secretary would chance a glance in the younger woman's direction and then look quickly away again. Pointedly ignoring her, she scowled for a moment as Bruce got off the elevator. Carefully schooling her features to more neutral ones when the secretary looked up again, she followed him into his office and sat on the arm of one of the chairs.

"How was lunch?"

Glaring at her with a look that was normally reserved for when he was Batman, he sat down with narrowed eyes. "None of your business."

Crossing her arms across her chest, she looked at him defiantly. "I'll find out anyway."

"I have work to do Cassandra."

"I don't."

She had issued the challenge. It was up to him to throw down the next gauntlet. Reeling in his desire to one-up his young charge, he instead started reading over a few proposals that Luscious had practically begged him to read. Ignoring the young raven beauty in front of him entirely, he waited for her to go away. She stayed put. There were downsides to having Batgirl as your body guard, he thought.

Sighing, he narrowed his eyes further and practically growled at her to leave his office. She looked not in the least bit intimidated. Something about seeing him coloring with toddlers probably caused her to loose some of the sense of awe she once had for him, he thought.

"Alfred may need help with groceries. He said he was going to the market this afternoon. You should call and ask if he needs help."

"Not his bodyguard."

"The twins are coming tomorrow. You know how much he cooks when they come over."

Narrowing her eyes, she stood, her posture perfectly rigid. "Only because I like Alfred." Turning on her heel, she was through the doorway, taking her Blackberry out of her pocket, before he could respond. Sometimes he regretted buying that thing for her.

Shaking his head, he wondered when his team of operatives had become his not so average family. Most people had children and a spouse and in-laws. He had ruthless assassins and trained ninjas for children and the master of manipulation for a father figure.

Touching his forehead, he frowned at the papers in front of him. Wayne Enterprises had little business in Egypt, but someone using that country's mailing address was ordering a lot of rather suspicious materials. Throughout the years, Luscious had come to the conclusion that alerting Bruce of this kind of information was easier than having Batman break in to the files a few weeks after the fact. Though he had never said anything out loud, Bruce knew that Luscious had his suspicions.

Pushing those thoughts away, he almost groaned at the name of the company ordering the materials. The name was in Arabic, which Bruce Wayne was not supposed to be able to read. It translated roughly into 'Demon's Layer'. Fighting the urge to leave the office immediately and fly to Egypt, he instead sent Barbara an email. She checked it every three seconds or so, so he was sure she would get it almost immediately.

By the time four o'clock had came and gone, Bruce had packed his briefcase and was saying an early goodbye to his secretary. Cassandra met him at the front door. Bruce knew that Alfred had kicked her out of the market an hour ago; the aging butler didn't like a scowling ninja following his around in the produce section. At least she had been out of his hair for a few hours, he thought.

The car was silent for a few moments before Bruce spoke. "Ra's is baiting me."

"Going to follow?"

He didn't answer her question. Instead, he turned towards a toy store and smiled while a few paparazzi snapped photos of him going in. Cass tried not to growl at the photographers while she watched the store clerks draw all the blinds. Bruce Wayne made the news less and less as he got older, but they still managed to find him every once and a while, especially when he was in the city and not at the office.

The store was closed early so Bruce could shop there. The owners didn't mind in the least; Bruce was their best customer. Sighing dramatically, Cass stood next to the windows and glared as Bruce picked something for Mary that he thought she would have a good time taking apart. Jimmy got more snap together blocks and something else Cass didn't pay attention to. Jimmy built towers but never took them apart, so his blocks were one time use only. Bruce kept him in supply.

Shooing the annoying paparazzi with a glare and a quiet command, Cass kept her annoyance in check as Bruce navigated driving without hitting anybody that was trying to get his picture. He had bought a few of the worst tabloids in the city and kept them on a tight leash where he was concerned, but a few magazines insisted on using him for the front pages every chance they got. As if there weren't enough society ladies having affairs with aliens and wolf boys, Cass thought.

"You spoil them."

"Damn right."

"Didn't spoil Dick, I bet."

He spared her a glare, but only for a moment. "Grandchildren are meant to be spoiled."

"Softy."

"Say that again and we'll be sparring all night."

At that, she was quiet. She could hold her own against him but he was brutal when they sparred. She thought it was his favorite form of punishment. He was sadistic like that.

There were times when he envied heat vision. She was typing on her Blackberry again and it took all of Bruce's control not to reach over and grab the small device and toss it out the window. Tiny smirks would come to her lips every once and while, which meant whoever she was talking to was making her laugh.

Making a mental note to hack into her files and review who she was talking to, he ignored the part of his mind that told him that was a serious invasion of privacy. He beat into submission the part of his mind that called him an Orwellian nightmare. Once his plan was formulated, he ignored the slight quirking of her lips and the lightning fast movement of her fingers. She didn't have to tell him who she was talking to; he would find out anyway.

Ra's was a problem. He was being purposefully baited and he wanted to know why. Flying to Egypt to ask the centuries old wack job wasn't the best option, Bruce thought. Barbara would probably have every detail of the dummy corporation Ra's was using by the time he reached the cave later that night. Bruce decided a decision could be made when he was better informed.

Hiding the presents in the library closet, Bruce greeted Alfred and immediately went to his cave. Frowning, he realized his butler was on his heels the entire way down the steps.

"Can I help you, Alfred?"

Bruce swore he could hear Alfred smile. "I received a call from your secretary, sir. She requested I make arrangements for you to have a second date with a certain doctor this weekend."

Sighing, Bruce booted up the computers and waited for Barbara's floating head to appear above his console. That seemed to be her preferred method of communication these days.

"I'm busy this weekend."

"Of course, sir. I will inform the lady that you are saving the lives of innocents and will call return her call when you are not dressed as a giant bat." Turning on his heels, Alfred started towards the elevator.

Bruce's head snapped up as he realized what Alfred had just said. "Tell the lady, Alfred? You talked to her?"

"Why, of course, sir. Your secretary was kind enough to give the lady your telephone number. At my insistence of course."

Narrowing his eyes, Bruce tried to think what angle Alfred had on the situation and failed. Deciding he would devote more time to it later, he turned back to his console as a computerized voice told him Oracle was online and connecting to him.

"Tell her I'm hanging upside down from the rafters and will call her after I turn back to my human form."

"Let no one say you are devoid of a sense of humor, sir."

Shaking his head at the sound of the elevator door closing, he straightened and looked seriously at Oracle's visage. "What do you have for me?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

If a person looked closely, they could see that the tail of one gargoyle moved in the wind. No one was looking that closely, as most people were thirty stories below the gargoyles. The rain pelted him and he could fee his face was wet even beneath the mask. Spring in Gotham meant rain and tonight was no exception.

Diving head first off the building, he allowed the wind to whip through his cape as a moment of terror flooded his veins with adrenaline. He never lost the rush of doing this. Twisting his body after the second or two of free fall, he shot a grapple and felt it catch. The pain in his shoulder reminded him he was alive.

Swinging along the tops of buildings and through the smog that was his city, his mind cleared. The problem that was Ra's Al Ghul unfolded in his mind and as his body relaxed and his muscles started to work, so did his mind. Landing on a roof top for less than a second before flipping off and landing on the head of a would be rapist, he let the would be victim scream and run.

Putting his fist into a mugger unlocked a part of his mind that had been dormant throughout his day as Bruce Wayne. By day, he tried to lock parts of his mind away; he had no use for them most of the time. Allowing his intellect to run free all day would lead to the destruction of the idea of Bruce Wayne. At night, though, he could become himself; he could allow himself the freedom of unhindered thought.

The best computer in the world was the mind, he had thought time and again. His was working double time. Ra's was leading him to Egypt, his home land. It was too obvious to have been intended to be missed. Ra's was purposefully drawing him out. The question was should he take the bait or not.

Cassandra had asked if he would follow Ra's. He had for most of his life. There were few times when Batman hadn't entertained the idea of going off on a lead Ra's provided. Most of the time, it proved frustrating and life threatening. This, though, this seemed different somehow. Perhaps because of how obtuse Ra's had been in drawing him out. He had practically sent a letter begging for Batman's presence.

The night was quiet. He was glad. He wouldn't be very pleasant in the morning if his night had been a repeat of the night before. At that thought, he took off at nearly inhuman speeds towards the waterfront. He had missed a clue last night due to the concussion and possible brain damage. Now, he was thinking clearly and he knew what he had missed.

The area of the explosion was cleaned up, for the most part. The fire marshal had been through the area and sifted the wreckage. The police crime scene investigators had furthered tracked new evidence and fibers through his crime scene. Amateurs. Finding a piece of a crate that hadn't been blown to particles, he ground his teeth.

The name of the company on the crate was in Arabic. Purity. The shipping company was called purity. A sick joke, if he had ever heard one, and he was sure he had been meant to hear this one. Of course Ra's would ship guns under a company named Purity. Purifying the Earth, through any means necessary, was Ra's' life goal. Killing a few billion in the process was a price Ra's considered well worth it.

Sighing, he launched himself into the air and started back towards his car. Two hints in as many days meant that the Demon's Head was very anxious to have Batman's company. Vowing to see the menace of a man after he had visited Mary and Jimmy, he landed a few feet from the car and deactivated the defenses.

It was nearing four in the morning. By that time, on most days, the criminals were starting to sleep. It was time for Batman to do the same. Logging his nightly activities, he was showered and in bed by six a.m. Enough time for four hours of sleep and a lot of coffee before Dick and Barbara would arrive with the children. Of course, they were always late, so he never felt bad if he slept in. Dick had a night job too.

He almost hit the snooze button when the alarm clock started its annoying buzz. Getting out of bed slowly, he stood and reached his arms above his head. His shoulders made a popping sound that was very satisfying. On his way to the bathroom for his second shower, his knees and hips popped as well. Hearing the odd sounds his body made these days had become part of his daily ritual.

Cass was sipping coffee and had already confiscated the newspaper when Bruce joined her and Alfred in the kitchen. She grunted a greeting to him.

"Hi to you too."

Swallowing the entirety of his coffee cup in one gulp while still standing at the coffee pot, he pointedly ignored Alfred's dirty look. Pouring himself a refill, he almost smiled. It was a wonder he hadn't developed an ulcer with all the coffee he drank. Dragging his hand through his damp hair, he leaned against the counter and sipped his second cup in a more gentlemanly manner.

His back protested the idea of sitting. Rolling his head on his shoulders until he heard a series of cracks, he again ignored Alfred's look. Cass was making it a point to ignore both men; she seemed content to stay in her own world. Frowning, he slapped the paper to the table and stood menacingly over her. To his utter amazement, she stuck her tongue out at him and stole the paper back when he lifted his hand a fraction of an inch in surprise.

She had been hanging around Dick and Barbara too much, he decided. She needed new friends. Picking at a piece of toast, his stomach growled in demand for greater sustenance. Knowing that Alfred would hit him with a frying pan if he ate more than a few bites of anything, he kept quiet. Alfred was making a feast from what Bruce could tell, and no one would be allowed to eat until the twins and their parents arrived.

Saturday brunch and Sunday dinner had become tradition in the years since the twins were born. If one could not take place, the other certainly did. It was rare that Bruce didn't see his grandchildren at least once a week. Both children stayed overnight every other weekend or so. In the past two weeks, though, Bruce had been so encumbered with work that he had spoken to them only through the computer, via Oracle's feed into the Bat Computer.

Smiling despite himself, he heard the front door open as, seemingly, a herd of wild elk entered the mansion. Jimmy was screaming at Mary for something involving a hat, Barbara was yelling over all of them and Dick was trying desperately to keep the peace. Oh, Bruce though, how sweet revenge tasted. It was his sincere hope that both children would be as difficult as Dick had been when Bruce tried raising him. Bruce thought that all parents had that wish.

Scooping the pair of four year olds into his arms, he smiled as Mary placed kisses all over him and Jimmy immediately began a diatribe about how awful his mom was and how wonderful preschool had been. Setting both youngsters onto the counter, he ignored the third dirty look of the morning from Alfred. They were his counters, damn it, and his grandchildren could sit on them if he wanted them to.

Barbara sighed and put her head in her hands. She looked tired. "Jimmy's just mad because he was punished yesterday."

Messing his grandson's hair up with his hand, Bruce smiled down at him. "What did you do?" The normal malice that was normally inherent in such a question when it came from Bruce was no where to be found. He actually seemed amused, Barbara thought.

"I downloaded a game onto mommy's computer when she wasn't looking."

That was a first class offense. Bruce knew that Barbara had very strict rules concerning her computer, as was necessary. Shaking his head, he caught Mary as she leapt into his arms from the counter. She thrilled at trying to catch her grandfather off guard by leaping from taller structures than herself when she thought no one was looking.

The fraternal twins could not be more different. Six eggs had been implanted in a surrogate mother, two had been fertilized successfully. Jimmy was practically a male clone of his mother, with red hair and freckles on his nose. No one could mistake the two for anything other than mother and son. Mary, on the other hand, looked almost exactly like Dick, which meant she looked very much like Bruce.

Last year, at a Christmas party, a few women had assumed that Mary was his granddaughter by blood. He hadn't corrected them. She had bright blue eyes that were piercing when she was angry and dark hair that made her pale skin look angelic. She was certainly the more hard-headed of the two twins. She was also quicker to anger. Barbara commented often that Mary was very much her father's daughter and grandfather's granddaughter. She was certainly part of the family. Jimmy, the more laid back of the two, was more prone to getting into trouble due to his curiosity rather than his brashness. He had only been left unattended once in the cave for five minutes before panels had been removed from the car and Bruce had almost had a coronary.

Lifting both children once again, he carried them to the library, listening to them both talk at the same time about things he had no concept of understanding. What in the world was Naruto, he thought. Shrugging his shoulders internally, he deposited them on the couch and went to get their presents. For every present he bought for them, two were donated to Toys to Tots, anonymously. The toy stores in Gotham loved him for his charity and the fact that they didn't have to give toys away for free to look charitable.

After the squealing had died down, he sighed into Mary's head. She was sitting on his lap, attempting to remove the battery compartment of the children's computer he had bought her. It was supposed to help teach basic math and spelling skills. Instead, he was using it to teach her how to rewire simple circuitry. Jimmy was building the Empire State Building out of multi colored snap together blocks. So far, it looked accurate to scale.

"Did you fight bad guys last night, grandpa?" Her tongue as out to the side of her mouth as she concentrated on the task in front of her.

"A few."

"Did you win all the fights?"

"I did."

"That's good."

Smiling, she handed him the internal processor and started towards the motherboard. The computer was pink and purple and generally obnoxious looking, but it was still a good learning tool.

"I practiced gymnastics just like you and daddy showed me."

Smiling, he tried to hide his pride and was glad there were no witnesses because he was pretty sure he was doing a bad job of it. "That's very good, Mary. Are you getting better?"

"Every day!"

Both children dropped what they were doing when they heard their dad call to them. Alfred had finished making breakfast. Pulling his tired form from the floor, he tried not to wince as Jimmy jumped and down in front of him and told him to hurry up. Oh, the joys of getting old, he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I chose the names Mary and James because they are Dicks' parents names and I thought they would be most appropriate. I know those names are used often in stories depicted Dick and Babs together, and I did not mean to step on any toes, they are just the most likely names for the children. If these characters were real and they did have twins, I think they would use those names. Thank you for reading and I enjoy the feedback!

Chapter 6

Any get together of the bat family was loud. Bruce was sure there were people who thought they would all sit around and brood while having staring contests, but that idea was far from the truth. There was the customary yelling as children tried to be heard over the adults, there was the clattering of silverware on china and the obligatory retelling of war stories.

Dick was laughing so hard Bruce thought he might hurt himself. Tim was trying to keep his amusement hidden and Alfred was having a marvelous time telling incredibly embarrassing stories about all members of the family. Bruce was the only one of the group not laughing. Bruce did not particularly want to remember Dick's penchant for hanging from chandeliers as a child.

Frowning, Bruce almost cursed as his watch started to glow a red color and blink. As much as he hated remembering the myriad times Dick almost gave him a stroke, it was relaxing, in a way, to get away from his life as Batman. Getting away from his life as Bruce Wayne was a rather large added bonus.

"I'll be back." Standing, he knew from the looks on their faces that they all knew that he meant he would back when he finished with whatever had called him away.

Dick frowned. His two children immediately started to protest loudly, Mary was practically screaming and Jimmy looked ready to throw a tantrum. The twins always seemed to take it personally when Bruce left to attend to Batman business. Sighing, he was about to try and stop the fight when Alfred took one of each of their hands in his and started towards the kitchen.

"There is a chocolate cake waiting to be iced and I believe I could use two little pairs of hands to help me."

Both children scowled but immediately became quiet. They were very wary of fighting with Alfred. He could be scarier than either of their parents when he wanted to be; he had patented the Bat glare, the other members of the family just used it more often. Barbara also suspected that they were afraid they would hurt the aging man if they tried to pull from his grasp. Both children were endeared to Alfred and they tried very hard to be gentle with him.

Sighing, Dick dragged a hand through his hair and started towards the entrance to the cave. Knowing that Bruce's watch was interfaced with the main frame of the Cray computers, he hoped that the alert was something the police could deal with without Batman. Usually, only key phrases and words related to the more infamous members of Gothams' rogues gallery would be cause for the computer to alert Bruce via his watch.

Sighing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and took the stairs at a leisurely pace. The man, who for the majority of his life had been his father, was scowling at the giant computer screen, which had four different images displayed. Dick could tell by the narrowing of Bruce's eyes that he wasn't happy.

"Big problem?"

Dick recognized the images on the screen as all coming from Arkham. Oracle had long ago hacked into the security surveillance, with Robin's help, and had constantly streamed video to her own computer systems and Bruce's. Robin had made a few physical changes to the wiring of the building that allowed Oracle to tap into the system. For years, no one had been the wiser of their surveillance.

It was a few moments before Bruce responded. "Possible riot."

The screen changed to the cafeteria, where four guards were using what looked like cattle prods to subdue one inmate. A dozen or so other inmates were already on the ground with their hands behind their heads. Another corner of the screen showed Joker's cell, which looked to be intact. The leer of the maniacal serial murderer could be seen behind the bullet proof glass.

"Looks like it's taken care of."

Nodding, Bruce stood from his chair. The computer scanned the police bands constantly, and any key words or phrases were immediately recognized by his software which in turn alerted him. His watch, which he only wore when in the Manor, and his cell phone, which he used when in Gotham City, were both programmed to receive messages and alerts from the computer system.

"Not much of a riot," Bruce said while walking to his son's side.

"No need for Batman?"

"Not unless the Commissioner calls or the computer picks up more alerts."

Nodding, he walked side by side with his adopted father up the stair case that led to the Manor. "Good thing. We would have all had to go."

Dick fought back a sigh. It was times like these that he was reminded why he bundled his two children up almost every weekend and drove to Gotham. Dick hated to admit it, but he wasn't sure how long the children would have their paternal grandfather in their lives. The twins saw Jim Gordon, their other grandfather, less than they saw Bruce, but Dick figured that Jim would be around a lot longer than Bruce. Dick wasn't sure if Bruce would outlive even Alfred.

On a nightly, and sometimes daily, basis, Bruce risked his life. Dick and Barbara had agreed that their children would see as much of Bruce as possible while they were still able to do so. The children deserved to know their grandfather, Dick thought, while they still could.

Bruce anticipated the screaming that would occur as he and Dick entered the library once again. As they passed into the dining room, where Tim, Barbara and Cass were still seated, two tiny people covered in white sticky icing burst from the kitchen. Alfred was on their heels, but he was too slow to catch the amateur acrobats.

"You aren't going, are you grandpa?"

With his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, Jimmy looked rather comical. White icing was smeared on his chin and nose and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. His youthful face and generous spattering of freckles somehow made his seriousness all the more ridiculous.

Sighing, Bruce smiled slightly at both children and lifted them into his arms. "You're both filthy. I'm not leaving right now, and before either of you touch anything, you are getting cleaned up."

Mary's voice was angry but Bruce could see she was relieved that he wasn't leaving. "It's cream cheese icing."

"I like that kind, but normally I like it on cake, not small children."

Setting them both on the counter near the sink, Bruce grabbed the nearest dish towel and wet it with warm water. He listened to them describe how Alfred let them sneak spoonfuls of icing when he wasn't watching while scrubbing at the rapidly drying concoction on their faces.

Bruce could feel Barbara's eyes on his back. Frowning, he set the children back down as he turned to face her.

"Can we get back to our meal or are you needed elsewhere?" Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked less than happy with him.

"I've already said I'm not leaving. I'll help Mary and Jimmy finish icing desert. Go enjoy your Saturday, Barbara." Turning his back on her, he lifted the plastic spatula one of the children had been using and handed it to his little helpers.

Knowing when she had been dismissed, Barbara narrowed her eyes and turned her chair towards the dining room once again. Alfred was slowly lowering himself into a chair next to Dick as Barbara wheeled her chair to the other side of her husband.

"Perhaps, Master Richard, you and the children could stay a little longer than usual today. Master Bruce expressed interest in taking them both riding."

Dick nodded absentmindedly. "Whatever you want Alfie."

Sighing, Alfred straightened in the chair just as the phone in the adjacent family room started to ring. Tim held up his hand to Alfred to signal the older man to stay in his seat.

"I'll get it, Alfred. Relax for once, huh?"

Clearing his throat, Tim lifted the receiver to his ear and gave the standard greeting Alfred normally used. Opening his eyes a little wider at the response, he covered the mouth piece with his hand and looked into the dining room.

"It's Bruce's new girlfriend. She wants to talk to him."

At Dick's raised eyebrows and Barbara's surprised expression, Tim smiled wickedly and took his hand away from the mouth piece. Yelling rather loudly, he said, "Bruce, it's your girlfriend! Pick up the phone!"

Alfred look mortified. An angry visage of Bruce appeared in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and icing on his face and arms. Tim thought he could spot some in his hair as well.

Bruce offered little more than a growl as he turned back into the kitchen and grabbed the portable phone. Giving Tim a hand signal meant to convey that he was supposed to hang up his receiver, Bruce watched as Tim smiled sweetly at him.

Sighing, he cleared his throat before speaking. "This is Bruce."

The melodious laughter on the other line stirred Bruce in such a way that he had to grin a little. "Girlfriend? Whoever that was must love torturing you."

"You hit that nail on the head. Hey! Stop that!" Grabbing the plastic spatula from Jimmy so he couldn't hit his sister with it again, Bruce shooed them away from the cake that was now completely iced. "Sorry, I wasn't talking to you."

"I hope not. Listen, did I call at a bad time?"

"My grandchildren are visiting, but, no, it isn't a bad time." Bruce kicked himself. He should have said it was a terrible time and that she shouldn't call ever again. He should have said something along those lines, but instead he found that he wanted to listen to her joyful voice for a few more minutes.

"Oh, well, I don't want to interrupt family time. I'll call back later." She sounded ready to hang up the phone.

"No, wait." He cleared his throat again before continuing. "I never know when I'll be busy. Why did you call?"

"Well, I thought we could have that dinner date this weekend. Alfred told me it would be okay to call you today or tomorrow, so I did."

Trying to scrub icing from the hair on his arms while holding the phone in between his ear and shoulder, he shook his head. The twins had delighted in trying to paint his exposed skin with the sticky concoction. Bruce now knew why Alfred always made or bought extra.

"Well, uh, I am spending time with my family today. Maybe later tonight. Are you free?" Still, he thought to himself, he wasn't turning her away. That was a bad sign.

"I'm free," she said quickly. "I'm definitely free. Do you want to meet?"

At that, Alfred appeared in the doorway. "Tell the young lady I would be honored to make her dinner tonight, Master Bruce."

Alfred rarely ordered him around. The old man was usually more subtle with his manipulation, Bruce thought. Frowning, he shook his head at Alfred.

"Listen, Connie…uh…yeah, let's meet."

"Good. Where?"

Alfred scowled. "I have already planned a meal and purchased the ingredients, sir."

Clearing his throat again, Bruce scowled back at the old man. "Umm…Connie…" Cursing silently, Bruce wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. He hated denying Alfred anything. "Come here for dinner. Around…" He looked to Alfred for confirmation of a time.

"Five o'clock, sir." Alfred ignored Bruce's confused look. Dinner was never served that early.

"Five, Connie. Do you know where Wayne Manor is?"

After giving her the address, she laughed and said she would mapquest it. "I'll be there. See you at five, Bruce."

"See you then, Connie." Hanging up the phone, he gave Alfred an exasperated look. "What was that all about?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about sir. I have already planned dinner for tonight. Master Richard and Miss Barbara are staying for the day so that you can take the children riding."

Bruce's jaw dropped. Alfred had orchestrated the day so that Connie and his family would be at the Manor at the same time. Dick and Barbara normally never stayed as late into the evening as Bruce now assumed they would be. His butler could have been a super villain had he chosen to use his powers for evil instead of good, Bruce thought.

"You are insufferable, Alfred."

"I try my best, Master Bruce."

Turning on his heel, he shook his head. It was already past one in the afternoon, Connie would be arriving in a few short hours. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Bruce stalked into the living room. A tiny girl immediately tackled him around his knees. Trying to keep his balance, he frowned down at the miniature running back.

"Daddy says your friend is coming for dinner!"

"Did he, now…" Scowling at Dick, Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. "You all have a lot of nerve."

Cassandra was all wide eyed innocence. "You're crazy. What are you talking about?"

At that display, Bruce rolled his eyes. Of course Cass would want to interrogate the woman he had lunch with. Connie would find herself drugged and shipped to Antarctica if Cass disapproved of her.

"You people act like she and I are dating."

"Are you?" Barbara looked hopeful.

"None of your business. None of any of your business. That goes for all of you. Let's go, kids." Taking their hands, he started towards the North wing of the house, where the patio was. "Let's leave these connivers alone to plan their world domination."

Walking with his grandchildren along the grounds of the Manor, Bruce sighed. A year after their birth, he had been convinced to reopen the stables and hire a handler for the horses. It had taken a year to convince him, but he had finally given in when Dick pointed out that it would be good for the children to learn to ride. Now, he had two horses and a stable employee that came every morning at four to take care of the horses.

The stables were far enough from the house that Bruce wasn't worried about his new employee discovering any entrances to the cave. He had also done quite a bit of background checks on the man. A year was a long time to plan for the arrival of two horses.

Nodding to the stable hand, who would leave in an hour or so, Bruce started to brush Lightning, as Mary had named him, with the help of his two small assistants. Thunder, the large Black gelding, had been named by Jimmy.

Sighing, Bruce cleared his head. Taking care of two animals in the afternoons, on the weekends, was an activity that gave him peace. There was something calming about the large beasts. He had little time during the week to visit them, but Alfred liked to brush them and Bruce had caught the older man talking to the horses on a few occasions. He tried to not be alarmed by that.

Bruce almost laughed at Mary trying to clime on top of Lightning without the aide of steps. She could barely reach half way to the animal's back. Setting his granddaughter on top of the golden mare, he smiled. He could only hope that his family was as neurotic about the dating habits of the two children when they reached such an age. It would be nice to have someone to share the pain with, he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Connie was nervous. She had been sitting in her car for ten minutes outside Wayne Manor. The mansion was huge and looming. Even in the bright spring sun, she thought it still looked foreboding. Shaking herself, she told herself she was silly. She was just nervous. Determined to continue with her plans, she got out of her car and smoothed her skirt.

The black skirt was short but not so short it could be inappropriate. Her button down top was open at the first two buttons, exposing a bit of cleavage. The yellow and dusty rose colors of the top made her hair seem brighter and brought out the bits of gold specks in her eyes.

She had decided months ago, shortly after moving to Gotham, that bedding the infamous playboy Bruce Wayne would have to be added to her bucket list. There was no way around it, she thought. She hadn't been with a man since her divorce two years ago, and Bruce Wayne seemed the perfect man to reintroduce her to the ways of romance.

She had heard incredible things about the man while moving through the circles of the wealthy in Gotham. Her charity work for the hospital and Leslie's clinic took her to galas and balls. Having been invited by a few women she befriended to the race track and lunches, Connie had gotten to know the upper echelon of women in Gotham. And all of them raved about Bruce Wayne.

Though every woman was angered that he had, at one point in time or another, rejected them and their obvious desire to marry him, they still spread stories about him like wild fire. Even the married women spoke of him as an Adonis. Apparently, he was the fish that was never caught, Connie thought. The four foot bass every one dreamed about but never hooked. His reputation for bedding woman and his prowess in such matters had immediately intrigued Connie. Even though he hadn't been acting much of the playboy in the past ten years or so, Connie figured that his talent for pleasuring women wouldn't have diminished.

Ringing the doorbell, she took a shaky breath. Meeting his family was not something she had anticipated. A few dates, good sex, sure, she thought. Hanging out with his grandchildren and family was another matter all together. She wasn't sure which was stronger, her desire to see Bruce or her desire to run from the possible trappings of family.

A smiling, dark haired man that looked a little older than thirty opened the door. "You must be Connie." He extended his hand to her as she crossed the threshold on the mansion. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dick."

"Nice to meet you too." She smiled nervously and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. No matter what she did to put it up, a few pieces always managed to fall out of their pins.

A younger dark haired man with a more serious visage approached her from a family room. Smiling, Connie took a moment to survey her surroundings. The foyer was huge and beautifully decorated. The colors were dark and rich and she immediately felt comforted by the obviously lived in environment. It looked extraordinarily well kept, but not to the point that she was afraid to touch anything.

"Hi, I'm Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too." Shaking the offered hand, she took a deep breath and straightened her back. "Where's Bruce?" She winced a little bit. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

Tim smiled then. "That's okay. The whole clan can be a bit overwhelming. Bruce is with the kids, they're still outside. I'm sure they'll be returning soon. Come on in."

Following a few steps behind the two men, she smiled at nervously as two women came into view. A red haired woman, who was beautiful and intelligent looking, Connie thought, was in a wheel chair. She was smiling and set her drink down on a nearby coffee table when Connie entered. A young Asian woman sat in an overstuffed chair. She made no move to smile or greet their guest. This young woman immediately made Connie nervous.

"Hi! Have a seat. I'm Barbara. This is Cassandra. It's nice to have you here tonight."

Nodding, Connie smoothed her skirt and tried to relax. When an elderly gentleman in a three piece suit and bow tie appeared, Connie relaxed a little more. The man Connie assumed was Alfred smiled and handed her a glass of wine. "Good evening miss. I thought perhaps you would be thirsty after your drive from the city."

"Thank you very much, Alfred." Downing a little less than half the glass in one swallow, she smiled and licked her dry lips. "I appreciate the invitation."

"Master Bruce is more than happy to entertain young and beautiful women, madam."

She laughed at that. "Not so young anymore, I think. But thank you for the compliment."

Bowing shallowly, Alfred started to turn towards the kitchen again. "I will continue to prepare dinner; it will be served in half an hour." Nodding to the rest of the people gathered Alfred started towards the hall again. Connie imagined that he gave the four younger people a warning glance.

"So, um….me and Babs are married. Our two rug rats are with Bruce now."

"Oh, well, congratulations. How long have you two been married?" Sipping her wine, she hoped that asking for a second glass in a few moments wouldn't make her appear to be a lush.

"A little over five years." Barbara smiled as Dick took her hand.

"And you two," indicating Dick and Tim, "are Bruce's sons?"

"Adopted," Tim said.

Dick frowned. He no longer felt to need to make that correction to people as Tim still did. After twenty years of living with Bruce, Dick had come to the conclusion that there were worse parents. Tim still felt the need to assert to people that he and Bruce were not related by blood. Dick had tried to ignore the slight look of pain that flashed across Bruce's face every time Tim pointed that out in front of him.

"Oh…" Chancing a look at Cassandra, Connie felt like her skin was about the melt off. The young woman wasn't scowling, but certainly wasn't smiling.

Barbara frowned at the younger woman. "Cass is Bruce's body guard. They've known each other a long time."

"He needs a body guard?" Her confusion was apparent, and Dick thought there was no way to fake the amused consternation on Connie's face.

"You can never be too careful." It was the first time Cass had spoken, and her voice was light and more feminine that Connie had thought it would be.

Finishing her drink, she took a deep breath and raised her eyebrows for a split second. "Well, I'm uncomfortable." Shifting in her seat, she cleared her throat. "I've only seen Bruce twice; I didn't think I would be meeting the family already."

Smiling, Dick leaned forward across the coffee table and patted her knee. "Don't worry. We aren't as scary as we look."

Laughing at that, she turned towards the doorway at the sound of running feet. Two small children darted through the door, followed a moment later by Bruce. The small girl launched herself into her mother's lap as the boy attached himself to his father's leg.

Bruce shook his head as their rambunctious behavior. He thought hours of riding and running around with horses would have tired them out. "Hold on, kids. Go upstairs and get changed and cleaned up."

Barbara shook her head. "They can't be trusted to do that alone. Come on, munchkins, mommy will try and make you presentable for Alfred."

Leading the two children away, Barbara smiled and nodded at Connie, trying to convey a sympathetic look. Wheeling down the hall and to the next living room, she loaded the two children and herself into the elevator and said a small prayer that Cass wouldn't scare the nice blonde lady away.

Bruce nodded a greeting to Connie. "I need to change also. I'll be right back." Smiling his dashing playboy smile at her, he turned from his guest and started to hall that led to the master staircase.

Tim cleared his throat. "So, Connie, what do you do?"

"I'm a doctor." She smiled as Alfred magically appeared with a fresh, full wine glass. "Thank you." Watching the older man disappear with her empty glass, she laughed a little. "Is he a ghost or something? I've never seen a man move like that."

Laughing genuinely, Tim tried to tell himself he didn't like this woman. He couldn't. She was funny, honest about her self consciousness and genuinely seemed like a nice person. He almost cursed. He had half hoped that she would be a crazy gold digger. That would be easier than dealing with the fact that Bruce might actually get serious with this woman.

Tim composed himself before answering. "Alfred's special in many ways. His telepathy is just reason we all like him so much."

Sipping her wine again, she started to relax. She could feel her blood flowing warmer as her face flushed from the alcohol. "I'm a doctor."

Nodding, he tried to appear a little surprised. He knew what she did and where she lived and when she had been divorced. He even knew the circumstances of the settlement. Although he had tried to convince Cass that Bruce could take care of himself the day before, Tim had done some research of his own.

"What's your specialty?"

"Emergency medicine, but I trained in immunology as well. I work at Gotham General and I volunteer at Leslie's clinic in the city. I assume you know Leslie?"

Dick answered instead of Tim. "Oh, of course, we all do. There was no one else Bruce would take me to when I was hurt or had the sniffles when I was a kid. Babs and I still take our kids to see her."

Smiling, Connie nodded. The older of the two adopted sons was very nice, she thought. He was a more sincere form of Bruce. The younger of the two was a more serious version but still nice. "She's wonderful. I'm lucky to get to work with her."

"How did you meet Bruce?"

Connie smiled at Cass' question. She speaks, Connie thought. "We were both at a party the other night for cancer research. I was surprised it was so well attended, being on a week night and all."

"Are you very involved in that kind of research and fund raising?" Dick asked before taking a sip of his water.

She seemed to smile sadly very suddenly, but the emotion was gone as quickly as it had flashed across her face. "Cancer research is something very close to my heart."

Dick was about to inquire further into that when Alfred appeared in the doorway. "If you would be so kind to fetch your wife and children, Master Dick, we can partake in dinner. Also, inform Master Bruce dinner is ready, if you wouldn't mind."

Standing, Connie was happy to be saved from the third degree. "Let me help you, Alfred. I'm sure you could use help setting the table?"

She looked so hopeful that she could help him Alfred nodding acceptance, to the amazement of his three younger charges still sitting. Dick moved slowly, eyeing Alfred suspiciously. Smiling, the old butler was sure that their dinner guest was just searching for an excuse to escape her captors.

Once in the kitchen, Alfred handed Connie a few platters of food of directed her where to put them on the table. It was absurd for a guest to assist him in the kitchen, but she looked so incredibly relieved that Alfred did not feel very bad for breaking protocol.

"They are not so bad once one is used to them, miss."

"Oh, I'm sure they're all kittens, Alfred."

The sarcasm in her voice almost made Alfred drop the wine glass in his hand. Stifling his laughter, he simply smiled at her. "They are over protective of Master Bruce, miss. I am sure you will have a delightful time this evening despite their interrogations."

He seemed so sure of her good time that Connie had to wonder if Bruce's family had been threatened by the butler. Shaking her head, she continued to set the table. Cassandra, the supposed body guard, acted more like a sister to Dick, Tim and Barbara than a hired hand. And Alfred seemed more the wise and sage grandfather to all of them than a butler. Connie was amused but confused at the dynamics of the family.

When Bruce joined the group of people again, he was wearing black slacks and blue sweater. He looked relaxed to Connie. Dick could see through the façade; Bruce was on edge. It had been a long time since anyone had joined the family for dinner, other than Clark and Lois and their daughter and sometimes a few other people they knew through the Justice League.

Dinah and Ollie had stopped by a few times over the years and Wally, Linda and their twins had joined the Waynes for Christmas one year at Dicks' insistence. In the past ten years, though, no possible love interest of Bruce's had joined the dinner table. Dick wasn't even sure if Bruce had any relationships in the past ten years. He and Barbara had often wondered if Bruce had taken a vow of celibacy.

Smiling across the table at Connie, Bruce allowed his shoulders to relax a little. She looked more nervous than he felt. In fact, she looked about ready to dart for the door. Reaching across the table for only a second, he covered her hand with his and winked. Her awkwardness seemed to melt with the gesture and Bruce thought wryly that was his good deed for the day.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Covering her mouth with her hand, Connie tried not to spit the sweet potato casserole from her mouth. Controlling her laughter, she swallowed and took a deep breath. At the insistence of everyone gathered, Alfred had joined the family for dinner and had proceeded to tell an incredibly amusing story about Bruce as a child. Bruce looked more annoyed than amused, but the corners of mouth were quirked up a bit.

Dessert was the cake the twins had helped to prepare and a delectable raspberry cheesecake that Connie was sure Alfred could not have made by hand. When coffee was served for the second time and the plates had been cleared from the table, Connie leaned forward on her elbows. The three glasses of wine she had consumed before and during dinner had served to loosen her tongue during the meal and she had enjoyed herself, as Alfred had assured her she would.

The twins were falling asleep at the table almost immediately after dessert. Bruce was quick to offer to let them spend the night at the Manor so Dick and Barbara could have a night to themselves. Barbara was quick to accept the offer. Lifting his two children into his arms, Dick promised to return as he started to take the twins upstairs. It was nearing eight and the children looked like walking zombies after their busy day.

"You have a beautiful family."

He wanted to respond with a compliment about her beauty, but Bruce restrained himself. "Thank you. I'm not sure I can take all the credit for that."

Cass was walking from the kitchen and passed almost entirely through the dining room before turning and frowning at Bruce. "Too much togetherness. I'm going to go read."

At that, she turned on her heel and was through the door. Bruce had to smile. Cassandra was still very much not used to being around a family. Barbara looked peaceful, and Bruce was sure the two glasses of wine she had indulged in were helping with that feeling. Excusing himself, Tim shook Connie's hand and told Bruce he would be reading as well. Refusing to role his eyes, Bruce just nodded. He was sure Cass and Tim would be sparring in the gym in a few moments.

Insisting that she had to help Alfred, Barbara excused herself, leaving Bruce and Connie alone in the dining room. Standing, he offered Connie his hand.

"Would you like a tour?"

Standing, she smiled at him. "Sure."

Fighting the urge to kiss him, she followed him through the halls of Wayne Manor. He explained the suits of armor in the great hall and the other odd assortment of collections he had throughout the mansion. As his tour led her through the library and formal living room, she stopped suddenly.

Smiling devilishly, she leaned into him and gently pressed her lips to his. Smiling into his lips, she leaned back after only a moment of contact. "Thank you for a lovely night. I had more fun than I thought I would."

"Thanks, I think."

At that, she laughed. Putting her hands on her hips, she leaned back against a wall and smiled widely at him. "Do you think I have their approval?"

Approaching her slowly, he grinned ever so slightly. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. It would be better, I guess, if they liked me."

"I'm sure they like you." Putting his hands on the wall, one on either side of her, he leaned towards her.

She was suddenly acutely aware of his masculinity and the muscles in arms and chest. Taking in a ragged breath, she unconsciously positioned her body so that she was arching her back towards him.

"Do you like me, Mr. Wayne?"

It had been a very long time since Bruce had felt so attracted to a woman. Having watched her interact with his family, he was now more keenly aware of his interest in her.

"I think it's safe to say that I'm intrigued."

Laughing, she swallowed suddenly, a little nervous. Breathing raggedly, she leaned forward, her lips mere inches from his. Closing her eyes, she felt his lean towards her to seal their lips together.

"Grandpa!"

Turning so suddenly he felt Connie stumble behind him, Bruce frowned at Mary. She was supposed to be sleeping, and he said as much.

"I had a bad dream. Mommy and daddy are smooching outside so I came to get you."

Lifting the precocious preschooler into his arms, he looked at the clock. It was nearing ten and he had to prepare for his nightly activities anyway. Perhaps, he thought, Mary's interruption wasn't such a bad thing after all. Turning to his guest, he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Connie. Let me put her to bed and then I'll walk you out."

At that, she feigned a smile. He was going to walk her out, she thought. An interruption shouldn't mean the end of the night in her opinion. Nodding, she walked past him and started to the family room she had first waited in for him. Why putting his granddaughter back to sleep meant they had to end their night she had no idea. Trying to calm herself, she repeated in her head that there would be other times. Bitterly, she thought that she might not have more time.

Carrying Mary upstairs, Bruce listened to the little girl sigh into his neck. She was rubbing her eyes with one hand and held on to the back of his neck with the other.

"Can you read to me, Grandpa?"

"Sure, munchkin. I need to see Connie out, though, so we only have a few minutes."

Nodding, she was quiet as Bruce set her down in her bed and brought the covers to her chin. He was two pages into a Doctor Seuss book when her regular breathing indicated to him that she was asleep. Setting the oversized book on the night table, he made sure the nightlight was on and the door was left a few inches ajar. Connie was sitting on the couch, her knees crossed, when he entered the living room. She didn't look happy.

"Sorry to cut the night short."

"You don't have to. There's no reason to kick me out yet."

A little surprised at her choice of words, he shook his head a little before speaking. "I'm not kicking you out. It's late, and I'll be up early with the children." He stopped, a little annoyed with himself for making excuses to her. "We can get together next weekend. Or during the week, if you like. Call my secretary, she'll set something up."

Nodding, she stood, looking resigned. "Sure, Bruce, I'll call you." Kissing his cheek, she started through the door and was in the foyer before Bruce could react.

Clenching his fists, he shook his head and started for the patio, where, reportedly, Dick and Barbara were.

Leaning on the frame of the sliding glass door, he looked at the couple, sitting side by side and holding hands. They looked peaceful. At the sound of his approach, Dick turned around.

"We were just about to leave. You sure the kids are cool staying here?"

"Of course. They'll welcome anytime. Go home, have a nice night."

Nodding, Dick stood and clasped his father on the shoulder. "I like her a lot, Bruce. Really, she's a nice lady."

"Thanks. She just left."

At that, Dick cocked his head to the side a little, looking confused. "Why did she leave? You didn't get cold feet did you? She looked ready to stay the night, if you know what I mean."

"No, I didn't kick her out. Mary came and found me, she had a bad dream. Connie left after that."

Frowning, Dick looked to his wife for confirmation that the old man was crazy. She shook her head. "Bruce, she didn't have to leave. We would have stayed for a while longer to take of the kids. Or Alfred could do it, he's certainly capable."

Sighing, Bruce turned back towards the house and dragged a hand through his hair. "You people are really pushing this thing, aren't you? Leave it alone, guys. And get out of here. Bludhaven might need you."

Ignoring the frustrated sigh from Dick, Bruce started towards the kitchen. He tried to always warn Alfred he was leaving before abandoning the older man to two preschoolers. As expected, Alfred was carefully drying pieces of china until they shined to his standards. Even late at night, Alfred managed to find something to do to further clean the already impeccable house.

"The young woman has gone, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, Alfred, she has. And I'm about to leave too. The children are in bed, I don't expect they'll be a problem for you."

"They never are, sir."

At Alfred's continuing silence, Bruce clenched his fists and turned from the kitchen. He would never understand his family, he thought. Continuing through the house and down the staircase that lead to his Cave, he sat in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief. The much needed vacation from his lives as Batman and Bruce Wayne served to focus his mind and energy, but by the end of the day he was ready to go to work. Sometimes, he reflected, being Batman was easier than being part of his family.

Sitting in his chair, he reviewed a few files. There was no need to start prowling the streets until around midnight. He would have time to review a few cases he had been working on until then.

Bringing up the files concerning Ra's al Ghul and his dealings with the arms shipments in Gotham, Bruce narrowed his eyes. Ra's would never stop, Bruce thought. The mad man was going to continue to provoke him until one of them was dead. It was the same with Joker.

Ra's had been shipping arms to Gotham under the guise of shipping electronics with a company called Purity. With the information Barbara had found for him, Bruce had discovered that the Demon's Layer Corporation was supposedly involved in weapons research. A few components of certain weapons had been ordered from Wayne Enterprises. Bruce knew that was not a coincidence.

Wayne Enterprises was not the only company to order such products from. There were other cities Ra's could ship guns to for profit. Bruce knew he was purposefully being baited into finding Ra's and most likely the demon's head would again try to convince him to see the flaws in fighting against him. It had been the same story for almost thirty years and Bruce was tiring of it.

Part of him wanted to ignore the goading. The other part of him, the vengeful part, wanted to find Ra's and best him at his own game. There was something Ra's was planning, something that involved weapons that made Bruce a little nervous. On the other hand, he argued to himself, Ra's was obvious desperate to contact him. That was enough to convince Bruce that a trap was being set for him.

Sighing, he looked at the clock and realized he would have to get ready to go into the city if he was complete his nightly patrol by a reasonable hour. Pulling the layers of Kevlar and body armor over his head, he snapped a few pieces of armor together. His new fighting suit was designed to move with him and conform to his body, but gave him more protection than a Nomex and Kevlar weave alone.

The entire suit was now black; he had given up the grays and midnight blues. The emblem on his chest was raised slightly from the rest of the chest plate but was not differently colored. Even his utility belt was now black. Slipping the cowl over his head, he stalked towards the car in full Batman regalia. His consciousness easily slipped to that of The Batman.

It was time to go to work. Pushing all thoughts of Connie and his family from his mind, he centered himself and concentrated on the tasks he would face throughout the night. He had no time for a mistress other than his city, his mind told him. The short time he spent away from his life as Batman was enough of a reprieve. It was time to go to work.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The air was momentarily sucked from his lungs as his back hit a brick wall harshly. A small gang of young men had started a fight with a faction of another gang. Batman had thought it would be a quick solution to stop the fight; or if not quick, at least not very difficult. He hadn't realized the new gang was made up of Japanese high school students that had embraced the stereotype of Asian martial arts masters.

It was difficult to keep up with the new gangs that were forming. High school students were forming together in racially driven gangs that attacked others for the sole reason of a difference in cultures. Batman found it disgusting.

What the young men had in bravado, they lacked in experience. Only one gangster, if they could be called that, had kicked him, after that, Batman made quick work of them. The first hit had caught him off guard and he would not make the same mistake again. Sending two people into unconsciousness by banging their heads together, he swept the legs out from under one man twirling knives. They would never learn to skip the theatrics, he thought. Somehow, criminals always thought they could impress him with knife skills or spinning kicks.

By the time twenty-three young men were unconscious and tied together, Batman was tired. Half of the men were of Asian descent, the other half appeared to be Latino. What they were fighting about was inconsequential as far as the Caped Crusader was concerned. Shaking his head, he listened to the approaching sound of sirens as he shot a grapple towards a roof top. There was time for a few hours patrol before going home, he thought.

Swinging from rooftop to rooftop, he landed gracefully and silently as he pressed his hand to his ear. Scowling, he took off in the direction of his car before the police dispatcher had finished her sentence. A break out at Arkham was nearly a daily occurrence. This, however, was being reported as a break in.

"Oracle, report."

She knew exactly what Batman was referring to. She had patched the dispatcher through to his ear piece. So much for a night off with her husband, she thought. "Break in at Arkham. Someone blew a wall to get in."

"Who got out?" Putting the car into gear, he started towards the asylum at speeds that were highly illegal.

"No one knows yet. They're still checking all the cells. I'm bringing up all the feeds, I'll see if I can get a picture for you."

"Who broke in?"

He listened as she started to type furiously. "You won't like this. The images look like ninjas. Real, honest to goodness ninjas."

She and Dick had been in the middle of undressing each other when the alarms on her computer had started to go off. They automatically recorded pertinent police banner conversations, and she had sent Batman the recording about thirty seconds after it had actually happened. Barbara had listened to the beeping of the alarms for almost five seconds before deciding to respond to them. Dick had groaned and started beating a pillow to death as she lifted herself into her chair.

She gasped at the image in front of her and quickly shut her mouth.

"What?" He sounded in no mood to be stalled.

Rubbing her eyes, Barbara fought the urge to curse. Of course he had heard her reaction. Dressed in a purple body suit, complete with leather skirt flowing about her leather clad legs and gun holsters at her hips, a woman Barbara had hoped never to see again strode into Arkham through a smoking hole her goons had created.

"It's Talia, B. I'll find out who she broke out."

Grinding his teeth together, he fought the urge to smash his fist into the steering wheel. He was thankful Bane wasn't housed in Arkham. At least the possibility of Talia and the South American assassin working together again didn't seem likely.

"ETA three minutes. Batman out."

Cutting the link, he pressed the accelerator closer to the floor boards. Of course Talia was in his city, he thought. The Demon's Head had been baiting him for weeks. Now, Ra's daughter was in Gotham trying to get Batman's attention.

Parking the car rather haphazardly, Batman was out of the vehicle before it had even stopped moving. He couldn't help but wonder why the leader of The League of Assassins would enter his city and break out an inmate. As far as he knew, she had denounced her association with her father and was only working with her sister.

Fighting back a sigh, Batman approached the building from the shadows. Shooting a grapple line towards the building, he moved past the gaggle of officers and the police commissioner. Jim had been in the commissioners' position, for the second time, for a few years and showed no sign that he was going to retire again. Although glad to see his old friend on the scene, Batman was too preoccupied to speak with him.

Walking through the new doorway, courtesy of Talia al Ghul, Batman kept to the shadows. Bypassing the police tape and the two guards, he continued into the halls. An alert in his ear let him know that Oracle was trying to contact him.

Pressing his hand to his earpiece once again, Batman moved deeper into the shadows of the ancient building.

Barbara didn't wait for Batman to respond. As soon as her computer indicated his communicator was on, she started. "She left with the Joker, though he wasn't conscious at the time. And B, she looked right at the security camera and winked. She wanted you to know it was her."

Growling a little under his breath, he started towards the Joker's cell. What Talia wanted with the madman was beyond him at the moment. The woman he had known years ago would never debase herself by allying with such a monster. Even super villains had standards, or so he had thought.

Joker's cell door had been blown off its hinges. Collecting a few traces from the door way, he put the samples in tiny plastic bags and then into his belt. He would analyze them later. There hadn't been a fight, the dust was mostly undisturbed. If he had been unconscious, though, Batman wondered why. Joker would have gone along with whatever Talia wanted if it meant getting out of Arkham.

"She's most likely out of the city by now. I want to know how she got in."

"You got it, B."

Turning on his heel, Batman started out of the asylum. Stopping at the voice that called to him, he almost relaxed his shoulders. It was easy to be relaxed in the presence of his old friend.

"You weren't even going to say hi?" Putting his hands in his pockets, Jim gave the tiniest of smiles to the vigilante. "I had the boys back off for a few minutes, I figured you'd want to look around first."

Nodding his thanks, Batman said, "It was Talia al Ghul. The video surveillance will prove it. Joker left with them, but not of his own accord."

Jim nodded back. "Yeah, my guys are pulling the tapes now. Though, these days, they're those CD things; I guess even Arkham had to update sooner or later. We'll look at them back at the lab."

Batman frowned. "He was unconscious when they left. She didn't have to use force to remove him."

"No, I suppose he would have skipped out of here if she had let him. Why knock him out?" Taking his hand out of his pocket, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was thinking out loud as much as he was asking Batman for the answer.

Scowling, Batman's look was enough to convey to Jin that he didn't know the answer to that question yet. Nodding a goodbye to Jim, he turned on his heel once more. "I'll let you know when I have something."

Sighing, Jim pushed his glasses up on his nose another centimeter. "I'm getting to old for this shit," he mumbled under his breath.

Watching Batman leave, Jim leaned against the wall. He knew if one of the Ghuls was behind this, the GCPD had little to no hope of catching the villains. This was Batman's ball game, the commissioner thought. Although Barbara had told him of her involvement with Batman as Batgirl and her continued involvement as Oracle, Jim found it hard to believe. He was as proud as a father could be of his daughter, but he shuddered when he thought of the danger she put herself and her family in.

After Barbara had confided in him about her role as crime fighter, he had put the other pieces together rather quickly. There was only one way he could explain the tumultuous relationship between Babs and Dick, and that explanation involved a brightly colored costume and short pants. And he was pretty sure his grandchildren's proclivity to heights and acrobatics were not a coincidence.

He had never said anything out loud, and he would never admit any knowledge of the Bat clan's identities, but he sometimes wished he was retired again, if only so he could talk openly to his daughter and her father in law about such things. As it was, he would never say anything to Bruce about his nightly activities.

Tapping his foot against the concrete flooring, Jim frowned deeper. Bruce wasn't getting younger and the criminals didn't seem to be getting any older. Although the older and more infamous villains such as Riddler and Penguin had seemed to slow down in their old age, others had kept up the old pace. Joker was one who didn't like to upset the status quo. He didn't escape as often as once had, but when he did he certainly made his free time count.

Joker had killed Harley Quinn two years ago after the psychologist turned henchwoman had tried to stop the insane clown from killing a three year old little girl. No one knew what had prompted Quinn to suddenly give in to her conscious, but it had lead to her death at the hands of her lover. Since then, Joker had been locked up tighter than ever and had only escaped once.

Turning to the outside of the building, Jim smiled slightly. It had started to rain. There was a time when he had imagined the rain as washing away the sins of the city. Now, he thought of it as a nuisance that added to his discomfort. His old bones protested not only the late hour and the cold weather, but the dampness as well. He imaged Batman was as uncomfortable in this weather as he was.

Slipping behind the steering wheel of his beat up old car, he wondered if Batman was in his laboratory, analyzing evidence, or prowling the roof tops shaking down informants. He hoped, for his friend's sake, the former was true. Old men had no business being out and about in weather like this, he thought. And it seemed it was only going to get worse as the night wore on.

A/N:

The deafening silence of the reviews is shaking me to my very core. Even if you hate this or think it is lame, let me know so that I can improve upon it. Thank you all those who are reading this and please leave a comment!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Maniacal laughter poured throughout the halls as if liquid. The sound assaulted her ears and made her teeth set on edge. The insolent clown had only laughed all the harder when she had hit him to shut him up. No wonder The Detective hated this man so, she thought.

It had taken only a few minutes to acquire the lanky and pasty murderer. It had taken another few minutes to drive to a private, recently created, air strip in the woods a few miles from Arkham asylum. The plane had been started and ready to take off before she and her cargo had boarded. Now, hours later, they were safely tucked away in her new home away from home not too far from Gotham.

Rubbing her temples would be a sign of weakness, so she stopped herself from doing so. Instead, she contented herself with kicking her prisoner in the stomach hard enough to drive the air from his body.

"Stop laughing or I will cut your tongue out, you insolent creature."

Laughing although still gasping for breath, insane eyes met her as his grin spread seemingly from ear to ear. "Oh, you're a feisty one! Bats must like you!"

At that, she backhanded him hard enough to force Joker to spit blood from his mouth. "You will not speak of him in my presence."

Since the death of her father years ago, se had declared Batman an enemy; his rejection of their son for the bastard children he sheltered had only further fueled her rage. Even though her father's death had not been permanent, because of him and her sister, her feelings towards the Dark Knight had not changed. Though she hated Batman, she did not want this creature speaking his name.

Grabbing Joker's chin, she yanked his head down so their eyes could meet. "You are going to send a message to Batman."

"Oh? I love candy grams." The leer on his face made her stomach wrench.

She was no stranger to death, and she had killed many in the name of her father's cause, but this madman's body count put hers to shame. The thousands of lives he had claimed in the name of fun were crimes that should have been punished. Batman was less of a man for not having finished his battle with Joker long ago, she thought.

Smirking, she reached for the knife at her hip. "This message does not require you to speak."

The guards just a few feet away stood motionless as Talia fulfilled her promise of a few moments ago. Once the madman's tongue was lying at her feet, she listened to his screams interlaced with gasping laughs. Even in the face of his impending death, he still cackled.

Turning towards the guards, she wiped her knife on piece of cloth she had held around the blade.

"Kill him with this blade. Do not leave evidence. Take his body back to Gotham, and arrange him so that Batman will be forced to find him." Turning back to the serial killer, her lip curled in disgust. "And do not make his death quick or painless. Remind him of what pain is."

At the guards nod, she started out the door. If Batman would not heed the call she had sent him by way of guns or business, he would listen to her by way of his nemesis' death. As she continued to her temporary quarters, she smiled at the screams coming from behind her. Even now, though, he laughed. Calling out to her in garbled language and words his mouth could no longer form properly, she thought he was calling her something rather rude.

Her father had failed to convert Batman. Her sister had urged her to kill him. Even her son had begged for the chance to end his father's life and claim Wayne Enterprises as his kingdom. None of them had succeeded or would succeed in what they wanted. As loathe as she was to admit it, Talia doubted her sister's or son's ability to kill Batman. Even if they could best him in personal combat; he would be rescued by his minions.

No, she thought, her plan was much sounder. Though she had begged him to see her way, to convert to her lifestyle, he had refused. She realized now that it was not he who had been mistaken. She had used the wrong means of conversion. After being killed over and over again and revived by the Lazarus Pit, she had taken a long time to recover to sanity. In her recovery, she had come to a conclusion.

Her father was inept, she thought. Years of following his orders without question had led to his death and her near demise. Her sister was power hungry and did not inspire the loyalty needed in The League of Assassins. After years of being ruled by first her father and then her sister, Talia had at last gown tired of not being the master of her destiny. Nyssa did not know it yet, but she was no longer her sister's ruler. Talia was preparing to remake her lover in her image and together, they would lead the Assassins.

Leaning back in her chair, she released a contented sigh. Her son was away, in Japan, safe and sound. It was good to have the assurance of his safety while she carried out her plans. Even her sister, Nyssa, was unaware of her actions. Ra's al Ghul had disappeared since being brought back from the dead. Talia thought perhaps he was biding his time, rebuilding his following. He certainly did not have to hurry, she thought. He had been alive for six hundred years. He could sustain himself for at least that long once again. A few years of self imposed exile was nothing to those that were immortal.

Turning at a knock at her door, she bid the person enter.

"If it pleases you, we will take his body to Gotham tomorrow night."

"Is he dead yet?"

"No, we will complete the task tomorrow, so that he has not been dead so long. If that is your wish, of course."

Smiling, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, that is perfect. There will be an autopsy, of course. I want it known that he suffered. Do not let him rest, but do not let him die. Continue this until sunrise tomorrow, then kill him and deposit the body."

Bowing deeply, the guard turned and left.

Standing, she went to her wine cabinet and poured herself a glass. Swallowing the alcohol and her bitterness, she tried to force her anger deeper inside of her. Even after ruining Luthor and exposing him as the criminal he was, she was not redeemed in Batman's eyes. She had realized, after the last time she had awoken from the pit, that she would never be redeemed. He believed there was no hope for her.

Finishing the rest of her wine, she poured a second glass and sat on the edge of her bed. The room was small and modest, but she would only be in it for one night. When her guards moved Joker's body, she would be leaving for another country. Her current base would be destroyed with no evidence left behind.

Stripping herself of her body suit, she rolled her head on her shoulders, stopping after a few popping sounds emitted from the top of her spine. Stretching her arms above her, she smiled and reveled in her nakedness. After completing a series of stretches that centered her being, she slipped into a silk nightgown and climbed between the sheets of her bed.

Yes, she thought. Her plans were going to work well. She would convert Batman and together, the two of them would kill her sister. They would enlist their son, and as one family, they would rule the Earth. It was perfect. Finally, she was going to be happy, with her Beloved, the way she wanted him. He was going to perfect once she had remade him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Setting her feet on the coffee table, Connie frowned. The polish on her big toe was smudged again. She had painted the errant toe twice and still the pink polish wasn't right. Sighing, she shifted so that the phone was in between her ear and shoulder and started to go about taking the paint off with a cotton ball and polish remover.

"He kicked you out?"

"Not really, Mel. It was…like he was suddenly awake or something. Like, he was dreaming and then an alarm went off."

Her friend paused to take in a deep breath. "That is weird. You know that, right? Connie, he's probably got bodies in a crawl space under his house. Are you sure about this?"

Letting out a single laugh, she threw the soaked cotton ball in the garbage can next to her and picked up another one. "I don't think he's that weird. Maybe, like, anti-sex weird."

"Anti-sex weird is bodies in a crawl space weird."

"You're oversexed. "

"Yeah, right. So, what are you going to do?"

Streaking the polish on very carefully, she took a moment to delay her answer while she concentrated.

"Well! Connie, are you there!"

"Sorry. I'm going to go over there again and wear something very sexy and knock his socks off with how great I am."

Connie could hear her friend drinking something before she responded. "Well, that's a plan." The deep sigh and hesitation told Connie there was something coming she wasn't going to like. "Connie…can't you just live normally? Do you have to do this?"

"Yeah, I think I do. You only live once, you know."

"You could live in other ways. Go skydiving. Learn to ski. Connie, bedding billionaires is not an acceptable hobby."

Billionaire. Singular. It isn't like I've been doing this or as if I'm going to continue doing this. It's just…fun. It's fun." She paused a moment, for effect. "I want to have fun."

"Fun is one thing, but this is insane. And you don't sound like you're having fun. You sound frustrated."

Blowing on her toe, she leaned back a little to admire the un-smudged paint. "No, it's fun. I…I don't want to end up with regrets. Mel, just support me, okay? No judging."

Melanie sighed. "No judging. I'm just concerned. Why don't you come home, Connie? Be with your friends and your family."

"I have friends here." She had heard this request before. "And I don't want to be around David right now. I can't see him."

"I know. I get that. But we're here."

"Dad's gone now, and mom's been gone for a while. David was all I had, Mel. And he left me. Boston is in my rear view mirror, and I refuse to look back. I like Gotham. I'm doing good things here."

At Melanie's silence, Connie continued. "And Bruce is nice. He's funny and sweet and I think he's going to be someone I can have some fun with."

"Don't break his heart, Connie."

At that, she took in a sudden breath. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she leaned back against the couch. "He doesn't seem like the type. He's the heart breaker. I don't think he'll mind a fling, Mel."

"You met his kids. You met his grandkids. Please, Connie. That's a recipe for disaster."

Swallowing, Connie played with the hem of her blouse for a second before taking another deep breath. "Listen, my long distance is going to kill me this month. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"I love you, sweetie. I know you'll do the right thing."

Ending the conversation, she stood and grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she sighed and went to her balcony doors. She had spared no expense on her apartment. It was in the well to do neighborhood of Gotham. Her neighborhood had the lowest crime rates.

There was a balcony and gas fireplace in the sunken living room. The bathroom was huge; it was almost as big as her bedroom had been in Boston, after she had moved out of her house. The tub was huge and there was a shower too, with beveled glass doors. She had loved the place the moment she saw it, and figured it was worth it. Most of her savings had gone into a down payment, but she now owned a little piece of the city.

Sighing, she leaned her head against the cool glass of the sliding doors and watched the rain fall. Lightning flashed through the sky and she smiled. Lighting was beautiful, she thought. Lightning and sunrises were her favorite parts of nature. Forcing herself away from the view, she started into the kitchen and put the tea kettle on.

After leaving the manor earlier, she had found it impossible to sleep. Knowing Melanie would be awake, most likely working on an article for the magazine she worked for, she hadn't hesitated to call. Melanie rarely slept until the early morning hours. Sniffling a little, she rubbed her suddenly blurry eyes.

Taking that as a sign to sit down, she took herself into the living room to wait for the kettle to alert her. The alcohol she had consumed had clouded her head, but during the hour which Bruce had shown her the house and flirted with her, she had felt most of the effects wear off. Now, she was tired and cranky and disappointed.

Turing the television on, she frowned at the news screen. A reporter was reporting live from Arkham Asylum. Sighing, she shook her head. She had to move to the city with the infamous nut jobs, she thought. Flipping through the stations, she frowned. The only shows on at one in the morning were re-runs of her favorites, which she had seen, or things that didn't interest her. She was glad when the kettle started to whistle.

Dunking the tea bag in the water, she sighed while thinking of Bruce. He was handsome, witty, and incredibly successful. She was having a hard time thinking of a reason not to be attracted to him. Wrapping the afghan tighter around her, she looked at the clock. It was a good thing she wasn't expected at the hospital in the morning.

Sitting back down on the couch, she contemplated calling another friend to talk. Leslie was normally up at all hours at the clinic. No, she decided, that wouldn't be fair. The elderly doctor was probably getting some much needed rest in between patients. Besides that, Leslie wouldn't have any time to talk to her. Looking into her tea, she frowned. There was little chance of her getting any sleep in the next few hours.

Standing, she sipped her tea and started into her bedroom. Donning navy blue scrubs and a white lab coat, she drank the rest of the tepid liquid before setting the mug in the kitchen sink on her way to the door. If she was going to be awake, she might as well do something useful, she thought.

The soft cotton scrubs felt like pajamas on her skin and she was tempted for a moment to go to bed. Shaking her head, she grabbed her rain coat and umbrella and locked the door behind her. There were people that could remind her that her life wasn't so bad, she thought.

The drive to the clinic wasn't long, but the transition from one side of the city to the other reminded her of science fiction shows where people traveled through portals and into new dimensions. The streets became darker, there were people huddled on street corners in short skirts with garbage bags held above their heads. The faint glow of fires in burn barrels could be seen down alley ways.

Parking on the street outside the clinic, she locked the doors and almost laughed at herself. As if locking the car doors would persuade someone not to steal her vehicle. It would take armed guards or a conscious on behalf of the thief to desist from thievery. In this part of the city, survival was held in higher regard than morality. There could be no morality when people were starving, she thought.

The clinic was bustling, like at all times. The heavy set African American nurse behind the desk was trying to explain in broken Spanish a child's condition to a hysterical mother. Shrugging her coat off, she threw it to a passing nurse with a quick apology and thanks and started towards Roberta.

Her Spanish was better, but it seemed the language barrier was not what had caused the mother to be hysterical. No matter how Connie explained that her baby boy had a cold, the mother seemed not to listen. Finally, taking the toddler in her arms, she started towards a small room in the back.

Examining the child, she winced. The mother had a right to be worried, she thought. The baby didn't have a cold, but a rather severe ear infection. Shaking her head, she supplied the mother with the proper medications and went to seek out whoever had made the misdiagnosis.

"Hey, Roberta, who saw that baby that just left?"

Shifting through the pile of paperwork on her desk, the woman sighed. "I don't know, Dr. Marsters. There's a physician from The General here and two nurses from an agency. You can ask them."

Frowning, she nodded and turned to waiting room to find another patient. The search took about one second. There was no point to finding the responsible party for the baby. Nurses were not supposed to diagnose patients, but they did out of necessity sometimes. Leslie just wasn't able to see every patient, and with only one other doctor, it was impossible for everyone to see a physician. Connie often thought that they were asking for a law suit, but no one in this area of the city could afford a lawyer.

It was eleven patients and one hour later when Connie stopped to take a break. She still hadn't seen Leslie; there was no time to find her friend in the mayhem. Grabbing one of the nurses, she asked for a cigarette and started towards the back of the building.

Lighting the cigarette, she shook her head. She had quit for a few weeks, but she never seemed to shake the habit entirely. After thirty years of addiction, it was hard to do. On nights like the one she was currently having, it seemed impossible.

"That will kill you, you know."

Startled, she shrieked a little and jumped a few inches. The voice had come from above her. Looking up, she poked her head out from under the awning enough to get hit with rain and to see a young man clad in a red and black costume. Swallowing hard, she tried to find her voice. Patients at the clinic swore the Batman and his partners were not urban legend. She was now inclined to agree with them.

Swallowing hard, she pulled her head back under the awning and wiped the rain from her forehead. "Well, something has to, right?"

She thought she heard an intake of air that could have accompanied a smirk.

"I'm looking for Dr. Tompkins," the voice said.

Shaking her head, as if he could see her, she inhaled deeply, pulling smoke into her lungs. "I haven't seen her yet. I think she's been with patients in the private rooms. I can get her, if you want."

Robin was more than a little surprised that she was being so calm. Most people shrieked and backed away or stuttered a response. She sounded as if they were having a conversation in a grocery store, dressed as regular people.

"I'd appreciate that."

Throwing the stub to the ground, she ground it out with the toe of her sneaker. "You could come out of the rain while I look for her. No one will bother you."

At that, she turned and was through the door. Her hand was shaking a bit, but she thought she had hid her fear and awe rather well. It wasn't every day she spoke to superheroes. Of course, she had once taken care of a patient that swore he was Batgirl. A gentle reminder of his gender had not dissuaded him from that belief. Another time, she had set the broken arm of a man in the emergency room that told her he was caught by Batman. He hadn't told her his crime.

She had seen enough atrocities during her tenure as an emergency physician that she was hard to shock. Working twelve hour shifts at Gotham General and volunteering at the clinic had served to harden her. Boston's emergency rooms didn't seem so colorful, compared to Gotham's. There had been one time she had heard that a victim of The Joker had been brought in, though she hadn't treated him.

Searching through the halls for Leslie, she poked her head through a doorway to see her aging friend setting the broken leg of a little boy. The boy was crying but Leslie spoke in controlled tones. The nasty cuts and bruises on the other leg were enough to convince Connie that the child needed Leslie more than the ridiculously clad man outside did.

Stealing herself, she took a deep breath and went outside again. The rain was still pelting the ground and the costumed hero was no where to be seen. She spoke to the wind. "She's with a patient. If you're hurt…um…if you're hurt, I could help. I'm a doctor."

She swore she could hear his hesitation. Finally, he responded. "A bullet grazed my shoulder. I would take care of it myself, but I have more to do tonight."

Robin grasped his bleeding shoulder. There was no time to go back to the cave and have Alfred tend to him. He needed to catch the mugger that had shot him and check out the break out at Arkham before calling it a night. He wanted to make sure no one had discovered the changes to the wiring of the surveillance cameras he had made. Besides, he felt bad waking Alfred when he knew Leslie would be awake already. He hadn't expected Connie to be there, and he had expected her offer of assistance even less.

Sighing, he dropped from his perch onto the ground in front of the landing and somersaulted onto the concrete landing and under the awning. She looked frightened, which was good, he thought. That was the proper response.

"I'll…I'll get a room set up. There's one right off the hallway." Turning, she almost ran to the door, her previous bravado gone.

Setting the room up, she controlled her breathing. The man wasn't a criminal. He fought criminals, she told herself. That did little to assuage her fears. He looked strong and she had heard whispers among her patient about brutality. A few patients she thought were in gangs had spoken in languages she wasn't supposed to understand about a vampire Batman and his partners. She prayed she wasn't in danger.

Walking the few feet to the back door, she opened it a crack and waved for him to enter. Leading the way to the examination room, she closed the door behind her. Hesitating a few moments at the door, she swallowed hard and turned to face him.

He had already removed his cape and was pulling the chest piece over his head. Looking at her, he indicated his left shoulder. "It grazed me. I just need a dressing."

Nodding, she swallowed hard and lifted the saline soaked gauze she had prepared earlier. She had never seen or heard Leslie turn anyone away, but she didn't know her boss's policy when it came to vigilantes. Biting her lip, she silently prayed she wasn't going to get into trouble. She liked Leslie and hated the idea of disappointing her. Even as a grown woman, disappointing the doctor, who had her eightieth birthday that year, was an upsetting proposition.

Cleaning the wound, she noticed ugly purple bruises along his chest. Frowning, the part of her mind that was a doctor took over. "I should wrap your chest. Your ribs might be bruised."

Her confidence slowly returned as she worked. This was her element. She helped people. It was only a few minutes until she had wrapped his chest and put two stitches in his arm. The wound could have required more, but she figured he would be moving around and would tear them anyway. Hers was a temporary solution, and she told him so. Bandaging the wound, she stepped back and turned to the table as he pulled the tunic and body armor back on.

"Thank you." Standing, Robin seemed to scowl at her.

Holding her breath, she wondered if he would erase her memory like in the movie she liked about aliens with Will Smith. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the name of the movie. Part of her brain that wasn't suddenly nervous screamed that the movie name didn't matter.

Before she could speak, he had left through the door. Leaning against the exam table, she took a few deep breaths. She could not remember a time she had been so unnerved. Cleaning up the mess she had made, she shrieked when she heard a voice behind her.

"Connie!"

Turning, Connie put a hand to her chest as she smiled. "Leslie. I've been looking for you."

"Are you alright?" Coming closer to her newest volunteer, Leslie couldn't help but notice the pallor of her complexion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Close enough, I guess." Shaking her head, she smiled wider. "Let me clean up and I'll come back out to the waiting room and pick up another patient."

Throwing the gloves and used gauze into the red garbage bag, she composed herself. She was a doctor, she thought. She helped people. Even men that wore black masks that covered their eyes and silly capes that billowed out like shown in Dracula pictures. Everyone needed help now and again and she was determined to provide the assistance.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Riding a motorcycle in the rain was dangerous and not very fun. Sliding off, Robin heaved a great sigh and threw his mask to the floor. Looking up, he frowned. Bruce was sitting in front of the Cray computers, sans cowl. The images he was staring at were those from the break in at Arkham.

Bruce didn't have to turn around and look at him to know Tim had been hurt. Anything Tim said to Oracle normally got back to him; and Tim normally found it difficult to keep anything from Oracle.

"Oracle told me you were shot."

Releasing a rather rude sound that was a mixture of a snort and a laugh, Tim continued to the showers. "Thanks for showing so much concern. Your girlfriend patched me up."

At that, Bruce's heard turned so fast that Tim thought he would hurt himself. When he saw the hideous glare Bruce was giving him, Tim back tracked a little. "Well, that is to say….I went to the clinic to have Leslie bandage it, it just grazed me by the way. Leslie was busy and Connie was there."

A slight growl emitted from somewhere in his chest. "It's dangerous to have contact with people whom you know as Tim Drake."

Nodding, Tim replied, "She didn't recognize me. She was pretty scared of me, actually. No worries."

Turning back to the computer, Bruce scowled as he heard Tim start for the showers once again. Talia had indeed wanted him to see her. She had winked at the camera as she was exiting and had blown a kiss to a camera that was supposed to be hidden directly outside of Joker's cell.

It had been hours, and still there was no trace of the new Demon's Head or the clown prince of crime. Bruce was starting to become frustrated. Satellite photos Oracle had captured using the League satellite had showed an air strip a few miles outside of Gotham, but the trail had ended there. Bruce was sure he wouldn't find Talia's location unless Talia wanted him to, no matter where she had taken the clown prince of crime. .

Dragging a hand through his hair, he stood and stretched his arms above his head. Satisfying popping sounds emitted from his shoulders before he pulled off the layers of body armor and draped them across the back of his chair. A long shower and a few hours of sleep would help to clear his mind, he decided.

Closing his eyes once under the hot spray, he tried to block the images of a smirking face blowing him a kiss. The image of a pasty white mass murderer drug through the makeshift doorway like a rag doll floated through his mind against his will and in an instant he knew that The Joker would never be the same psychopath he had been before.

It was a possibility that Talia would dunk Joker in a Lazarus pit and try to use him as a secret weapon. Bruce knew the brainwashing powers the Lazarus pit could afford. That however, was a distant possibility. He doubted Talia would debase herselfby working with such a monster.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Bruce sighed and avoided looking in the mirror. Every scar on his body told a story, and he was in no mood for reminiscing. Selina's claws, Croc's teeth and Deadshot's bullets were just a few of the implements used to scar his human flesh. As annoying as Clark was, Bruce could sometimes envy the Kryptonian's inability to scar. It was a rare that Bruce was able to wear short sleeves, and he hardly ever swam in front of people anymore. Even the members of his family weren't fully aware of the ropy flesh that covered most of his body.

Pulling on a long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of track pants, Bruce stifled a yawn. Years of sleep deprivation and brutal nights were taking their tolls on his body. He knew that he had few years left as The Batman. It would be maybe five years, he reflected, until he would retire permanently. He would have little choice.

Shoving four pillows behind and slightly under his back, he tried to find comfort in his king size bed. An aching back, and aging knees and shoulders made it hard a comfortable position when lying or sitting. Sleep was a precious thing that Bruce found very hard to come by most of the time, even without considering his night job.

A few hours of almost uninterrupted rest and Bruce groaned awake at the sound of little children opening his bedroom door. Smiling ever so slightly, he let them think he was still sleep as they crept through the doorway and closer to his bed. Laughing tiredly, he caught Mary as she leapt on top of the bed and onto his chest. Jimmy, giggling just as much as his sister, threw himself onto the pillows next to Bruce's head.

"Morning Grampa! Alfred says breakfast is almost ready."

Ruffling Mary's hair, he smiled a little wider. "Alright. You two get out of here and I'll be down in a few minutes."

Standing up, Jimmy started to bounce up and down with little regard to Bruce's request for him to leave. "What are we gonna do today, Grampa?" Bouncing a little higher, he laughed out loud when Mary started to join him.

"Yeah, Grampa Bruce! What are we gonna do today?" Mary was now trying to jump higher than her brother and seemed pleased when she succeeded.

Shaking his head, Bruce pulled himself into a sitting position and frowned at the children on their makeshift trampoline. Standing, he winced as many of his joints popped as he walked. It was embarrassing to admit that he was getting older; even if that admittance was only to himself.

In the bathroom, he could hear the sounds of yelling and laughing over the splashing water in the sink. He imagined that Mary and Jimmy were tearing the bedding apart and that Alfred would have a fit when he saw the state of the bed. Shrugging, Bruce reflected that it would probably be no worse than what the bed looked like the morning after one of his nightmares.

Once out of the bathroom, Bruce winced. The bedding was scattered across the floor and the twins were beating each other with pillows. They were definitely more destructive than his nightmares, he decided.

Grasping both of them by the belt loops on the back of their pants he hauled them up while they screamed in twisted in delight. Putting them gently outside his doorway, he pointed down the hallway with a stern look on his face before turning on his heel and shutting the door.

Dressing quickly, he started downstairs, greeted by the sounds of laughter and calm tones spoken by an English accent. The sounds warmed his heart and gave him joy though he would never admit that to anyone. It was good to hear the sounds of children in the manor once again. After Dick had grown up and moved away, Bruce had thought never to hear that sound again.

Even after the hellish life he had lead and the myriad of mistakes and sins he had committed, somehow he had been granted the privilege of raising children and grandchildren. Forgetting for a few moments the stresses weighing his mind, he sat down for breakfast with a young woman he considered very much a daughter and his two rambunctious grandchildren.

Whatever the rest of the day would bring, whatever the night had in store for him, at least he would always remember the moments when he could almost admit he was happy. That was something to cling to, he thought.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It was too soon to see him again, she thought. Dinner and a rejection less than twenty-four hours previous had embittered her desire of him. Her guarded heart was too tightly encased in protective steel to be deeply hurt, but her female pride still stung a little.

Talking to her friend on the phone had not cleared her head, and although she had thought working through the night would exhaust her to the point she wouldn't be able to resist sleep, her encounter with Robin had shaken her enough to doubt her own exhaustion.

Sleep had come; she had barely been able to move when she arrived at her apartment. Pink rays of early morning sunlight through her windows had greeted her as she arrived home from her night time adventures. Stealing a few minutes before utter exhaustion claimed her, she had watched the sun come up over the horizon and bathe the dank city in pastel hues. Moments such as those made her thankful to still be alive.

Stretching, she looked at the microwave clock. It was nearly two in the afternoon. Her head ached and her stomach was doing flip flops. Migraines usually resulted in nausea and this was no exception. The headaches had been coming more and more frequently, which worried her, but she had refused to think about it too deeply.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed at her temples. A few Excedrin Migraine and a cup of coffee would take the edge off, but she knew that it wouldn't go away completely. They stayed until they were ready to go, she thought. Standing, she dragged her robe around her and started towards the bathroom.

A hot shower before her shift started, she thought, would do her good. Rubbing at her temples as she stood under the hot spray, she closed her eyes for a moment. A moment later, she was lying on the bottom of the still warming tub. Catching her breath, she pushed herself onto her elbows and groaned.

Pushing her body as hard as she had been was not a good idea. She knew this. She had no choice, she felt. Insomnia plagued her nights and without utter exhaustion sleep was hard to come by. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she managed to get to her knees and turn the water off. Leaning against the back of the shower wall, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head against her forearms.

Refusing herself the luxury of tears, she sat in silence only occasionally broken by her ragged breaths. It wasn't fair, she thought. It wasn't fair that she was alone and broken and searching for meaningless thrills to fill her empty life. Even after saving countless lives and dedicating herself to healing people, if only one at a time, she felt empty. None of it really mattered, she thought.

Her husband had left her for another, younger, woman. Her father, the last member of her biological family, had passed not long after that. She had lived alone for two years. She hadn't experienced romance in that period of time, either. She had expected to take time to heal, but she had found that she had done the exact opposite. It seemed she was worse off than she had been only a day after her divorce had finalized.

Lifting herself to her feet and pulling her terrycloth robe around her, she croaked an excuse to the hospital staff over the phone. Sometimes, she wondered if she should quit. Charity work and the clinic would keep her busy enough, she thought. The other half of her mind, the half that wanted to keep some semblance of normalcy in her life, rejected that idea.

Slipping under the cool comforters after dimming all the lights in her apartment, her mind drifted slowly to Bruce. As sleep claimed her once again, images of his smirking face crept into her mind and the last piece of her that was conscious felt a tinge of fear at the emotions his visage caused. She had to be guarded against love. She could not afford those kinds of feelings.

At the moment Connie was thinking of him, his mind was wandering to thoughts of her. Shaking himself from his reverie, he turned to his granddaughter once again. She was falling asleep in his arms, and Jimmy, walking alongside him, didn't look as though he was faring much better.

A long morning and early afternoon filled with walking around the grounds of the manner had exhausted his young charges. Barbara had once explained to him that four year olds needed a nap during the day, an idea he had accepted after some reluctance. Normally, they would bounce around the manor until they collapsed on a couch or the floor just before Bruce would scoop them up and deposit them in their beds upstairs.

Today, he was carrying one and practically dragging the other back to the manor. It was nearly an hour before their regular nap time, but he had worn them out early. They had covered quite a bit of ground together; Bruce thought they were getting old enough to appreciate the beauty of the land his family had chosen to call home.

Reaching down to swing Jimmy into his arms, he heard a mumble of protest before the small boy rubbed his eyes and leaned down into his grandfather's shoulder. Repressing a surge of pure delight at the knowledge that two such little beings loved him so completely, Bruce continued towards the manor.

It took only a few minutes to get them into their beds with their favorite blankets and variety of stuffed animals. After his morning with them which had been after a very short sleep, he felt as though he needed a nap as well.

Stretching, he decided coffee and research in his cave would be more productive. The small grin that had been playing at the corners of his mouth changed into a frown when Cass walked into the kitchen, obviously happy. Cassandra's amusement was always suspect.

"You're in a good mood."

"Mmm-Hmm." Taking a mug from the cabinet, she ignored Bruce's deepening frown.

He hated when she answered with sounds instead of words. That privilege was reserved for him only. He swore to himself that he would hack her Blackberry that afternoon. "What's going on?"

Scowling at him, she fought the urge to stick her tongue out. "Can't I just be happy?"

"No."

The one word curt reply made her narrow her eyes at him. "Tough. I'm in a good mood. Deal with it."

Leaning forward on his elbows, he narrowed his eyes as well. "I assume you would tell me if something was going on." His tone was very clear in implying that she should come clean about whatever it was she was hiding.

As one of the few people on the planet that could match him blow for blow, she felt less of a need than most people to acquiesce to him. Even in verbal sparring matches, she could go toe to toe with him. Their fights ended in a draw as often as either of them won, so she figured she had pretty good odds of keeping her private life private from him.

"Paranoid." Her reply was as curt as it was teasing.

He replied in kind. "Sneak."

Standing, he glared at her as he left for the sanctuary of his cave. He could almost swear he heard her smirk as he left the kitchen. Shaking his head he wondered, for not the first time, when the downward spiral in respect he was shown had started. Before the twins had been born, Cass wouldn't have dared to sneak around behind his back.

Again blaming Dick for his suffering reputation within his family, he shook his head. Watching the computers boot up, he felt the subtle shift within him occur. Transforming internally from Bruce to Batman, his mind kicked into overdrive. The finely tuned computer of a mind that was cased within his skull started to categorize and reference.

He had to devote more time to understanding what Ra's was up to. Now that the Demon's Head had recruited his daughter into the mix, Bruce found the entire situation even more muddled. It was clear that Ra's wanted his attention, but he had few ideas as to what he was to pay attention to.

Previous clues had pointed in the direction of Egypt. There was no way he would be bated into meeting the Demon on his own ground though. Talia had entered his city and he wanted the fight to be on familiar territory.

It was nearly two hours before Alfred seemingly materialized behind him. Turning to his elderly friend, Bruce relaxed a little.

"The children are up." It was an observation rather than a question.

"They are indeed, sir. I must attend to dinner, so if you would be so kind as to tend to them." Alfred did not phrase his statement as a request.

"It's a little early for dinner, isn't it, Alfred?"

"I am attempting a new recipe, sir. I may require more time to prepare the meal than you are normally accustomed to."

Bruce knew Alfred's clipped tone was his British version of teasing. Smirking a little, Bruce nodded and went to find the two little imps he called his grandchildren. Hopefully, after dinner, he would have time for a short rest and a work out before hitting the streets again.

Juggling his roles was difficult, he thought sometimes, but he couldn't imagine it any other way.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A/N: I saw an extraordinary documentary on the History Channel Saturday night entitles Batman Unmasked: The Psychology of the Dark Knight. If you have a chance to see it, I highly recommend you do. Anyway, I apologize for the long wait for chapters 12 and 13; life jumped up and gave me a very swift kick in the pants over these past few months. Please continue reading and reviewing, I so appreciate it. Thank you.

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"Who has she been talking to?"

Sighing dramatically, Barbara shook her head. "My telling you would be an invasion of privacy, Bruce. Why don't you ask her?"

Scowling, he poured himself another cup of coffee. Dick had taken the children upstairs to collect their things soon after dinner and the others had disappeared into the catacombs of Wayne Manor, leaving Barbara and Bruce alone in the dining room.

Rubbing a thumb print off the shining coffee carafe with her napkin, Barbara scowled right back. Of course, she knew about Cassandra's constant use of her Blackberry. Barbara had hacked the device and monitored the messages sent and received. Knowing it was an incredible invasion of Cassandra's privacy did not keep her from taking measures to ensure all her operatives were safe.

Every costumed crime fighter, when they were in Gotham, worked for Batman. Barbara considered herself not only one of those who worked for Batman, but also the person who ran most of the operations in Gotham. Batman may be the leader, she thought, but she was definitely the coordinator, and that made Cassandra her operative.

"I know you know, Barbara." It was unfortunate, Bruce thought, that Barbara no longer responded to most of his silent threats. It made it harder to work with her.

Leaning forward in her chair, she put her hands flat on the table, an intent look in her eye. "Just because I know doesn't mean you have to know. Trust your people, Bruce."

His voice dropped in octave and decibel. "I trust her wife my life, Barbara. I'm concerned."

"About her or about the mission? If you're concerned about her, then let me put you at ease. She's fine. There is nothing dangerous or suspect going on in her life. If it's about the mission then you need to get over it. She is allowed to have a personal life."

Closing his eyes for a moment, he decided to take a different approach. "I am concerned that she seems to be so obsessive. If you say she's fine, though, then I will accept that."

"Hmm-mm. Sure you will." Frowning, she pulled away from the table and wheeled herself towards the living room, mumbling all the way. Behind her, she could hear him stand up, sigh, and follow her.

Shaking her head, she was glad that he was no longer harping on Cass's relationship. There were other things that she would much rather talk about.

"So, tell me about that wonderful doctor that seems so interested in you."

A rude grunt escaped his lips before he could quite stop the sound. "There isn't anything to tell."

"Right. She met your family, Bruce. There has to be something there."

"There are more important matters that need my attention."

About to respond, Barbara was cut off by the sudden sounds of trampling little feet. Catching her son in her arms as he leapt at her, Barbara watched Bruce quietly slip away from the room. Dick was carrying two small backpacks as he followed Mary into the family room.

"Bruce looked happy."

Shaking her head, she gave her husband a look that clearly conveyed she was not ready to talk about such things just yet. Gathering her two small children, she kissed Alfred's cheek and turned towards the door. Saying goodbye to Cass, Tim or Bruce was usually a pointless act. Any of the three of them were likely to give a grunt and simply turn their backs. Bruce and his two clones, she thought, were not very good at social niceties.

The ride home was quiet during the better half of it. The children tended to sleep when they were in the car. Leaning her head against the window, Barbara sighed and closed her eyes. It was nice to experience quiet every so often.

"Tell me about it." She could hear the smile in Dick's voice.

"Our family is exhausting. You know that, right?"

Chuckling quietly, Dick nodded. "We're all pretty intense people, Babs."

Sighing again, she smiled every so lightly. "I asked about Connie tonight."

"Good luck getting anything out of him about her. He likes her. Too much, he thinks. Just let it go, Babs. If this turns out to be more than what he had with Selina or Vesper, I'll be pretty surprised."

Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Barbara nodded. Something inside of her rebelled at the thought that Bruce would always be alone. Maybe, she reflected, it was because she cared for him so deeply and wanted so much to see him at peace. In reality, she knew though, that peace was a luxury he would never afford himself.

"She just seems so right. She's funny, smart, doesn't take herself too seriously, has a real career. Those are good things…I just wish…sometimes…" Her lips refused to convert her thoughts into intelligent sentences so her words trailed off into silence.

For a few moments, Dick let the silence drag on. "Babs…I've known him for most of my life. The guy raised me, you know? I think, besides Alfred, I know him the best of anyone. I…I know that the mission is more important than his personal life. It always has been and it always will be. Besides that, Babs…how would he explain all those scars? Even if she never asked about where he went at night or why he was hurt seventy-five percent of the time, I think she would notice the scars."

"I guess so…I just worry, I suppose."

Reaching across the front seat of the van, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Don't worry so much about him. I think you have enough people that really need your attention to worry about."

His glance towards the back seat told her exactly who he was talking about. Of course, he hadn't said it, but her operatives came to her mind as well as her childern. Keeping her children safe was her first priority. Her husband and Birds of Prey, in that order, were her next priorities. Bruce was certainly in the top five, but she knew she couldn't expend her energy on his love life. There was simply too much for her to do.

Putting the children to sleep took less time than normal. A trip to Bruce's usually served to wear them out. Sitting in front of her massive computer terminal, Barbara listened to Dick pulling his suit on behind her. The familiar ache in her chest expanded until she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Each and every time she watched him leave, with his own two legs and extraordinary body, she couldn't help but feel the ache of loss.

The years had served to dampen the pain, but she knew it would never fully leave her. Kissing her husband, she whispered for him to be safe and pulled away to allow him to leave. As he leapt off the balcony of her work room, she had to say a silent prayer for his safety. She knew no matter how talented and well trained he was there was always a possibility that he wouldn't come back to her.

It was a possibility she normally chose to ignore. On some nights, though, weakness crept inside of her and fear gripped her heart in a vice so tight she thought she would die. It came and passed in a moment, though, and in another moment she was typing as fast as her fingers would fly.

She would simply have to trust her operatives, she thought as her advice to Bruce entered her mind. Even if the operative was the man she wanted to grow old with, she would have to let go of her worry. Fear crippled, she thought, and even her own useless legs were not as crippling as that dangerous emotion.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I have reposted chapters 1 and 11 where I misspelled Connie's last name. I was using two different surnames without realizing it. Thank you Louie for pointing that mistake out to me!

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Chapter 15

The night had been long and hard. It seemed with every passing year that every night got just a little bit harder. He sometimes wondered when a little bit harder would turn into entirely too hard. Normally, he would try to be back to his cave by three or four in the morning; even earlier on a good night.

Not this night, he thought. The sun would soon break over the horizon and bathe the city in light, which was his cue to be home and in bed. Sunday was a day of rest for him. There would be no family get-togethers or meetings at Wayne Enterprises. He would be free to work on his physical body and body of cases.

Gliding through the night air, he was about to turn towards the car when the police banner suddenly piped itself into his ear piece. Setting his teeth, he angled downwards and gained momentum as he glided through the air.

A man had been found, strung up, the dispatcher said. An investigative team was on the way and the commissioner had been woken out of bed. He instantly knew that Jim Gordon would not have been summoned for an everyday murder. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he called himself jaded, but it was fact none the less. Either a serial killer he did not yet know of had struck or someone important had been killed.

Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself that every life was important, but only the loss of some lives in particular were deemed important enough for the commissioner himself to be involved. The politics of murder, he thought.

Landing quietly on the edge of the roof, he steadied his breathing. Jim wasn't there yet, but a few uniformed officers stood around the body, which was indeed strung up to look like a scare crow. Instantly, his mind processed the possible ways Jonathon Crane would be involved.

When one of the uniforms moved away and leaned against the roof entrance door to throw up, Batman knew something was dreadfully wrong. Only rookie cops got sick on the scene of a crime in Gotham. The seasoned veterans had seen too much terror to be affected in such a way and the man throwing up was certainly no rookie. There were no rookies in their forties in Gotham.

Keeping to the shadows, he crept closer to the body, taking in the details of the scene that he knew most investigators would miss. Every logical thought, however, ceased when he saw the victim from only a few feet away.

The Joker was covered in blood, most likely his own. His face was broken and torn. Cuts and burns covered most of his pasty white torso. The gaping mouth was open wide enough for Batman to see he no longer had a tongue.

The carnage was extravagant. There had been few times he had seen a victim so tortured to death. Of the hundreds of people he had seen who had been murdered, raped or abused, few had borne the marks of the kind of excessive torture Joker now did.

Gripping the gravel of the roof tightly within clenched fists, he tried to wait until Jim arrived. The sun was minutes from coming up, and he knew when it did it would illuminate more than he cared to see.

Jumping from the ledge, he shot a grappling line and swung towards his car. He now knew that when he caught Talia, murder would be added to charges along with kidnapping. Despair gripped him. Of all the horrible things he knew her to be capable of, the kind of carnage left on the rooftop had not been among them.

Sitting in front of his computer terminal, his body begged for rest. His mind, however, could not stop working. The images of the lifeless body of his greatest enemy swarmed his mind and prevented him much needed sleep. Dragging his hand through his hair, he was suddenly glad that everyone else in the house was asleep.

Alfred had yet to welcome him in and Cassandra was most likely asleep in her bed. Tim was safe in his apartment and Barbara and Dick were probably ready to start their day with their children. All was normal with his family.

The name of the victim had yet to be released, and the police were keeping very close wraps on the entire story. Thankfully, Bruce thought, the body had been found after the deadline for the most of the city's papers for the day. Wincing at the callousness of that thought, he tried to ignore the war waging inside of him.

Images of Barbara, broken and bleeding swam before his eyes. Memories of Jason, taking his last breaths while Bruce held him in his arms, almost crushed him. The pain he felt from Jason's loss and the grief that had almost swallowed him all those years ago threatened to resurface and in that instant he was not sorry Joker was dead.

Perhaps, he thought, Talia had thought she was doing him a favor. A twisted and horrible favor. The darker parts of mind thought the monster had finally gotten what had been coming to him. Finally, the part of himself he was most ashamed with, the part that demanded an eye for an eye, was satisfied.

The facet of himself he tried to cling to, however, was ashamed for thinking such vile thoughts. Joker had deserved to be locked away for life, even immobilized for the rest of his existence, but he had not deserved such an end. No one, Bruce thought, deserved that kind of suffering.

Standing suddenly, he could no longer tolerate the war inside his head. Stalking to the showers and then to the manor proper, he tried to think of all manner of things except the death of The Joker.

Talia would be found and dealt with, but he knew from previous experience that obsessing over her whereabouts until he was frustrated and exhausted would do no good. His mind would operate better after he had rested.

Sighing, he had reached the base of the staircase just as the doorbell sounded. Standing still for a moment, he waited for the telltale sounds of Alfred shuffling towards the door, but none came. Sighing, he blinked hard before turning around and towards the entrance to the manor.

His mind was starting to lag as his body was and exhaustion was soon going to claim him. Nearly ten hours chasing criminals and being physically battered had taken their toll. He hoped a long night would not turn into a long morning as well.

Opening the door, the split second of hesitation he experienced was the last experience he would remember for hours to come. Standing over the body of the unconscious and unmasked Batman, Talia smiled. If he would not come to her willingly, she thought, she would take what she wanted by force.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"What do you mean, 'he's gone'?" Barbara could not keep from rubbing her temples as she spoke.

It had been a long night in the Haven and Dick had come home bruised and cranky. Mary had thrown a fit over breakfast and Jimmy had thrown up most of his pancakes. Where she got the bright idea to make a sugary breakfast after a hard night of work, she had no idea, but she was certainly suffering for it.

"I went to check on him, as is my custom, close to noon. His bed was untouched and he was not in the cave. None of the cars are gone, but his suit from last night is in the downstairs shower. He certainly arrived home, but he is not here now."

"You didn't hear him leave?"

Alfred's hesitation made Barbara want to jump through the phone line. "I must admit…I was not quite myself when I awoke and I slept past my normal hour of waking."

His tone spoke more than his words ever could. Assuring him Dick would be there soon, she hung up the phone and looked towards her husband. He was already dressed and kissing his children goodbye. He looked haggard.

Dick leaned down to kiss Barbara's cheek before turning and leaving. Since Bruce had been framed for Vesper's murder, Dick had harbored a secret nightmare of a situation similar happening again. Gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, Dick hoped nothing tragic had happened to Bruce.

The afternoon sun was sweltering; it was uncommonly hot for a spring day in Gotham as Dick got out of his car and rushed to the front door of the manor. Tim opened the door before Dick had a chance to reach the steps to the entrance.

"Come downstairs," Tim said as Dick followed him into the manor.

"You found something." Dick said it as a statement rather than a question.

Nodding, Tim led the way down the staircase to the center of the cave where Dick could see Alfred and Cass waiting.

Tim started without preamble. "Alfred said he was out of it when he woke up and he didn't get up until around nine, which is really weird for him. Cass didn't get up until even later and she said she felt foggy. I analyzed their blood, because that cannot be a coincidence, and found low level barbiturates in their systems. I'm still trying to figure out how they were both exposed to it."

Nodding, Dick took a seat in front of the Cray computers and watched as Tim brought up the results of the blood tests. Scowling, he immediately brought up the icon in the corner of the screen that connected to Barbara.

"I've seen barbiturates before…" Dick started to say.

Barbara cut him off. "I'll run it against known substances."

Tim nodded at the idea. "I only did the test a little while ago. Our equipment is fast, but it still took time to get these results. They're only preliminary."

"Babs is faster than we could ever be. What are our thoughts on where Bruce is?"

Cassandra crossed and uncrossed her arms on her chest. "Were we knocked out enough that we wouldn't hear a struggle?" Even in a drugged state, she liked to think she would have heard a fight going on downstairs.

Tim shook his head. "There was no sign of a struggle that I could see. Nothing's out of place anywhere in the manor or here. Everything looks immaculate."

Clearing his throat, Dick said, "It didn't look like anyone cleaned up after a fight either. The best ways to get in and get out would be through the cave, the front door, or the patio door. The carpet around the front door didn't look recently scuffed, and nothing was out of place. What about family room, around the patio?"

Tim answered, "Nothing. And the grass didn't look like anyone was dragged. And if he was carried, it would have to be by at least two people or one really strong person, like a meta. I checked the grass around the patio while the blood was being analyzed, no foot prints that didn't belong to any of us."

Alfred finally spoke for the first time since Dick had arrived. "May I suggest that Master Bruce may have gone willingly?"

Dick seemed to think about it for a moment before he answered. "Then why drug you and Cass? If he went with a friendly, there would be no need for that."

"A backup plan, maybe. Just in case," Cass said.

Tim nodded. "Or he could have been blackmailed into going. Or threatened. He could have walked out of here on his own even if it wasn't of his own volition."

As Dick was about to continue with another round of brainstorming, Babs' visage appeared on the computer screen.

"A low level gaseous anesthetic. Find where it was piped in."

Rising immediately, both Dick and Cass started towards the most likely places a gas could be filtered into the manor, their efficient minds processing ideas at incredible speeds. Dick stayed seated at the computer. Clicking a few buttons, he started a diagnostic that would analyze the air in the manor and in the cave. He had to hand it to Bruce, he thought, the old man really did think of the strangest things for home security.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Dick wracked his brain for ideas as to who could have either convinced Bruce to leave or overpowered him into doing so. The list was short. Snapping his head towards the computer fast enough to give himself whiplash, his jaw dropped at the images in front of him.

The computer, as it was programmed to do, had immediately recognized certain key words and phrases in a television broadcast. A news anchor was announcing, complete with photos of a body bag and somber looking policemen, the death of the famed madman The Joker. Catching his breath, he immediately remembered that Talia had kidnapped Joker from his cell at Arkham less than forty eight hours before the announcement of his death.

"Babs…tell me Bruce knew about this."

"He didn't mention it to me." Her voice was low and soft, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.

"This is all connected, Babs. We need to find Talia now. She's got Bruce."

She immediately regretted her fierce tone when she spoke. "Don't jump to conclusions." Slowing down her mind and her breathing, she put aside all thoughts of dealing with the news of Joker's death and focused on finding her lost father-in-law. Swallowing hard, she spoke again. "It's a good possibility that everything is connected, but we can't put all our eggs in one basket. Let's think about some other possibilities."

Dick was not ready to be deterred quite yet, though. "She breaks into Arkham and kidnaps the Joker. Thirty-six hours later, he's found, tortured to death, on a roof top. There is no way Bruce didn't know that happened. And then, shortly after, he goes missing. Vanished into thin air. This is all connected…I just don't know how. What game is Talia playing?"

Sighing, Barbara decided to play along with her husband. "I think Bruce thought it was Ra's, not Talia, pulling the strings."

"So, maybe Talia kidnaps the Joker and takes him away where she kills him. Then she brings him back to Gotham, dumps him in the middle of the city and then makes her way to the Wayne Manor and waits for Bruce to come home. Only…how does she know he's home? And how could Ra's be involved? I didn't think he was pulling her strings anymore."

"The first clues something was going to go down looked like they came from Ra's. It wasn't Talia's style."

"It doesn't make any sense…what do they want with Bruce?"

Sighing, Alfred slumped in his chair as he listened to the verbal banter between Dick and Barbara. His bones ached with weariness and worry was clouding his senses. Though he had slept more in the previous night than he had in the past week, he felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue.

Clearing his throat, he waited for both younger people to finish speaking. "All that family has ever wanted with Master Bruce was to either convert him to their cause or watch him suffer. They will, no doubt, stay true to form. We must find him before either of those things happens."

Dick waited a few moments to speak. "We don't know the head start they have on us. We need to know exactly when Joker was found and when Bruce got home. From there, we can construct a timeline of events."

The sounds of typing echoed through the cave as Barbara clicked away on her computer. The sound transmitted as though the technophile were right there with Dick and Alfred.

"I'm hacking into the systems that keep track of all ingoing and outgoing traffic in the cave. Give me just…one…got it! Okay, Tim came in at four oh seven a.m., it's his bike signature. Cass came in twenty three minutes later. The last movement isn't until six twenty-two, and the computer registered the Batmobile's signature."

Dick couldn't hide the concern in his voice. "That's really late for him to get in. That was after sunrise."

"Twenty-one minutes after sunrise. He tries to be in a lot earlier than that."

"And when did the police find Joker?"

He hesitated only a moment before saying "let me call daddy and ask. It will be the fastest way."

Before Dick could respond, she had cut the connection. Sighing, he turned as Tim descended the stairs.

Before either Alfred or Dick could ask for a report, Tim started speaking. "They used the gas main. When the stove was turned on, this anesthetic came in with the gas. The valve that's activated when the stove is turned on and off was tampered with."

Dick cursed under his breath. There were sensors all throughout the ground of the manor. If a groundhog nested within one square mile of the estate, Bruce knew. It was almost inconceivable that someone could tamper with their homes is such a way. Shaking his head, he remembered that if one of the Ghuls wanted in, they normally got in. Ra's had bypassed Bruce's security before, with disastrous consequences. Dick knew that it could be done again.

Before anyone could say anything, Barbara was back and speaking. "They found Joker at five forty-six. They called a crime scene investigation team and my dad a few minutes later. I found the recording of that dispatch on the Cray computer, so Bruce must have heard it."

"He wouldn't pass that by," Tim said.

Nodding, puzzle pieces within Dick's mind started to come together. "That's why he was so late. It must have been a rough night to keep him out past five, and then that call comes in and he's out even later. And maybe he was affected by the anesthetic that was floating in the air in the manor. So he gets home and he's beat all to hell and then…"

Stopping in mid sentence, he started at the ground for a moment before continuing. "He was too beat to put up a fight. One hit and it was over. They picked him up and took him. Babs, is there any way that there might still be security footage of the front entrance? "

Looking towards the computer screen once again, Dick fought a wince as the analysis of the air in the manor did indeed show traces of the same substance found in Alfred and Cass's blood stream. Leaning back in the chair, he blinked a few times, now no longer needing to fight fatigue.

Adrenaline was starting to course through his veins. They were going to find Bruce, he knew, because he was starting to understand who had taken him and why. Dick just hoped Bruce could hang on long enough to be rescued.

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A/N: Well, I wanted to thank everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story, I really love reading the feedback. I normally do not respond to feedback within the stories, but I suppose there is a first time for everything, so here goes...

**Excel**, **Batfan**, **Robin **and **Wolvmbm**: Thank you for the positive feedback!

**Juan: **Your email address was not included in the review you posted, which is why I did not alert you when I updated. Thank you for your positive feedback, I loved what you had to say.

**Oxybot **and **bf**: I took your suggestions into consideration, thank you.

**The fuzzy nosed wombat**: I hope you review again, I loved reading your suggestions!

**Louie Pastiche**: I really appreciate that you reviewed every chapter, thank you and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story and I think all your questions will be answered.

**The unsigned reviewer**: Thank you for the positive feedback, it was very encouraging.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank you all and also encourage you to keep reviewing, it is very helpful to my writing process! Stay tuned for the next chapter!

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	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Walking down the steps of the church, Connie took a deep breath and smiled. It was her Sunday morning custom to attend church, and she enjoyed it most of the time. Today, she thought, had been especially uplifting. She had attended a later service, being that she had slept in, and the afternoon was beautiful as she wandered the streets of Gotham.

Her heels clicked on the ground as she walked. Her apartment wasn't far from the church and driving had seemed so wasteful that morning. After sleeping most of the previous day and night, she had woken feeling more refreshed than she had in weeks. Her migraine had vanished along with her bad attitude.

Today, she decided, was going to be a good day. Her skirt swayed in the breeze and she was glad she had opted for a short sleeve cotton pullover. The rays of the sun were beating on the city, but she didn't mind. It was bright and hot and an unseasonable summer-like day that April.

Sighing contentedly, she was glad for her renewed energy and faith. The problems that had seemed so insurmountable in the dark now seemed manageable in the daylight. She remembered that her mother had always said that life was ninety percent attitude.

Slipping inside a coffee shop, she ordered a tea and a croissant and sat at a small back table facing the front windows. When the entire patronage of the shop suddenly quieted, her head snapped up. Looking around for the source of the sudden hush, she heard the announcer of a news station on a small television mounted in the corner of the store.

Putting her hand to her chest, she felt a mixture of emotions. Though she had not been a Gothamite very long, she knew the city. The death of a monster that had tormented the citizens of Gotham for twenty years was a momentous occurrence.

Swallowing back a sudden sadness that rose from a place inside herself she couldn't identify, she thought of all the families of the people that had been murdered by the creature called The Joker. She wasn't sure where the thought had sprung from or why she felt so touched by the death of a man she had never really been affected by.

She supposed, though, that anyone who had ever lived in Gotham in the past few decades had been affected by The Joker. That madman, she thought, emitted an air that covered the entirety of the city in a blanket of fear and shame.

She wasn't sure if it was the sadness of death in general or an overwhelming sense of relief that seemed to emanate from ever person in the small café that caused her to feel such a swell of emotion, but she had to swallow hard to stop tears from coming to her eyes.

It seemed like a long time before she got up and walked towards Leslie's clinic a few blocks away. The walk seemed like a million miles and only a moment all at once. Once there, she donned spare scrubs that were always kept in a small locker room in the basement and carefully folded her clothes.

Setting her garments in her oversized purse, she walked upstairs and handed her bag to the receptionist, who promptly stored the thing in a locked drawer. The clinic reminded her of reality. There were sick people, even on a beautiful and sunny day. On a beautiful and sunny day, a monster had been murdered. It was another day in Gotham, she thought.

"Connie! You're back again? What will the hospital think?"

Turning to Leslie, Connie hugged her briefly before accepting a chart from the older woman. "They'll manage somehow, I think. You need me more here, anyway."

Smiling reassuringly, Leslie patted Connie's arm before turning to a mother with four small children. It sounded to Connie as though none of the family spoke English very well except the oldest girl, who couldn't have been more than ten years old.

Shaking her head at the unfairness of the world, she found the patient whose chart she was holding and set about interviewing him while still in the waiting area. Things that could be treated in the waiting area were, the few private rooms in the back were normally occupied with the patients who had the most need for care.

Of course, she thought, everyone deserved and needed care. On a sliding scale, though, some people needed more immediate care. Everything was relative, she told herself.

The day passed quickly. Not only was she tired, but she was content. It was good to work until she felt as though she could sleep and actually deserved to. At nearly nine that night, she was ready to leave, until three children, carried by their respective mothers, were brought in with what looked like something the CDC needed to be notified about.

After that night, the following days had seemed almost tame. Sitting with Leslie in her office at the clinic nearly three days later, they were able to laugh about the frightening almost-quarantine.

"That was so intense, Leslie. Honestly, I didn't think I was going to be able to leave that night."

Rubbing her tired eyes, Leslie smiled. "Hang around her some more and you'll see all kind of things. I…oh, Connie, I've been doing this for so long. I've seen so much. You never really get used to it, but if you can laugh about it, you'll be alright."

"I've been so busy these past few days, what with the outbreak scare Sunday night and a double shift Monday, I haven't had time to think about it, let alone laugh."

Smiling tiredly, Leslie relaxed in her overstuffed chair and sipped her tea. The young woman in front of her was intelligent and a gifted doctor, but Leslie could sense there was a pain lurking beneath the surface. Bruce, sometimes when he was pretending to be a socialite fop, had the same air about him, she thought.

She hadn't heard from Bruce in a few days, and it worried her. Normally, she could expect a call from Alfred about once a week, if not more frequent. The silence from the entire family had unnerved her some. The tabloids had spoken of a clandestine vacation with a Swedish supermodel, but Leslie knew better to believe such rubbish.

Connie looked to the clock and stood to stretch. It was nearly two in the morning. Sighing, she tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear. Work had served to distract her from Bruce leaving the country with a twenty-something model. She had been crushed to hear the news when she had called Bruce's office Monday morning to ask for lunch date. Since that moment, she had thrown herself into her work with abandon. She refused to think too deeply about Bruce.

About to make her excuses to Leslie, Connie paused in mid sentence when the phone rang. Frowning, Leslie stood and walked across the small room to her desk. Knowing when her phone rang so late at night it was probable because of an emergency she was almost reluctant to lift the receiver.

Connie watched her friend pale during the short phone. When Leslie hung up and immediately grabbed for her coat and purse, Connie stopped her.

Grabbing her arm before she could leave, Connie met Leslie's eyes. "What's wrong?"

Stepping out of Connie's grasp and towards the door, Leslie tried to make a hasty exit. "I have to go to someone. Get home safely, Connie."

Grabbing her own bag, she followed Leslie through the back halls of the clinic. "Wait a second! I'll go with you, Leslie."

The sharpness of Leslies' voice surprised both women. "No!" Shaking her head for a moment, she pulled the door to the outside world open and started towards her car. "I have to go alone."

"Not a chance." Slipping into the passenger seat before Leslie could stop her Connie put a determined look on her face. No way, Connie told herself, was she going to let Leslie go into a dangerous or difficult situation alone.

Once they had pulled away from the curb Leslie started driving at speeds Connie hadn't thought the older woman to be capable of. She could tell from the expression on Leslie's face that whatever had called her away so quickly had her very worried.

"Talk to me, Leslie. What's going on?"

Her voice was barely a whisper as she responded. "I make house calls sometimes."

"To who? Bin Laden? The Godfather?"

Squeezing the steering wheel a little tighter, Leslie shook her head. Her old bones ached and her heart felt as though she wouldn't be able to take any more shocks. Caring for Bruce all his life, through his time as Batman, had taken its toll.

"I can't explain it, Connie."

Controlling her rising anxiousness, Connie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Where are we going?"

Catching Connie's eye, Leslie could see the genuine concern and empathy there. Perhaps, she thought, Connie was one to be trusted. The younger woman had certainly shown a deep concern and sadness throughout the past few days when she had been unable to contact Bruce, even though she had tried to hide it. Leslie could only hope that there was something real and tangible there. Of course, it wouldn't matter if Bruce never let her in.

Alfred hadn't mentioned Bruce's condition over the phone; only that Dick and Tim were bringing him home from some awful experience. If he was hurt more seriously than she could handle on her own, she would need someone with Connie's expertise to help. Trying to drive and argue with herself at the same time was causing the car to swerve every few minutes, adding to Leslie's anxiety.

In a rare moment of rashness, Leslie spoke. It was time, she decided, that someone made a decision for Bruce. Even if Connie would catch a glimpse of his real life in his weakest moment, it could be worth it to see a steadying and loving presence, besides Alfred, in Bruce's life. Besides that, Leslie thought, Connie might be needed to help save his life.

Taking a deep breath, Leslie steeled herself for the night to come. "Bruce has been in an accident. We're going to Wayne Manor."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It had taken days to find him. They had chased every possible lead and squeezed every informant they knew of. Dick, Barbara and Tim had cashed in a lot of favors. In the end, though, it was Cassandra who had learned the location of Talia's new headquarters. Through beating to a pulp a few connections she had made from the League of Assassins, she had learned that Talia had set up operations in Canada, of all places.

The Canadian Rocky Mountains were covered in snow, even in April. Climbing the mountain pass, Dick was glad that he had worn his insulated suit. The temperature was above freezing, but the cloud cover and wind chill made the climb unpleasant. The approaching darkness meant that the temperature was going to drop dramatically soon. Sane people climbed the mountains in July, Dick thought.

Robin was a few feet behind Nightwing. Cassandra had been elected to watch over the city while they launched a rescue mission. Against her will, she had agreed to stay behind. Keeping up the idea that the bat clan was still active in Gotham had taken quite a bit of effort; Dick had been reluctant to leave the city unprotected when the underworld was already suspicious of the Dark Knight's absence. It had been more than seventy-two hours since Bruce had been kidnapped, and creating a façade that he had taken a sudden trip with a certain super model had also taken effort and time on everyone's part.

A plane had been chartered and an elaborate cover story had been created. So far as Dick knew, everyone had believed the rumors and the tabloid reports. Though Bruce hadn't graced the covers of tabloids as often in the past few years, his image of a playboy was still intact in the eyes of the public. Changing perceptions was difficult, and Dick was glad for that in this particular instance.

Looking back at Tim, he gestured towards the Eastern mountain front, where Talia's headquarters supposedly were. Satellite photos, courtesy of Barbara's incredible hacking skills, had shown heat signatures in the mountains that, unless there was an undiscovered volcano, had no business being present. With the information from Cassandra's snitch and those photos, Dick had decided to travel to Canada.

They were almost counting on being caught. Even with the technology in their suits that deflected scanning devices, Dick knew that Talia would be very well prepared for the eventual rescue mission that she had to know would be launched.

On hands and the balls of his feet, in the snow, Dick crept closer to a cave in the mountain. There was no way to see more than a few feet into the enclave from his position, but he knew that was the entrance to whatever torture chamber Talia had devised.

Shaking his head to ward off his most unnerving thoughts, he tried not to think about the information he had learnt before he had left Gotham. The arms shipments that had first alerted Bruce to a Ghuls' presence in his city hadn't been very traceable. Bruce had conducted a rather in depth search, but Barbara had gone deeper.

The dummy corporation hadn't only been used to purchase and sell weapons, its name and bank account had been used to stockpile chemicals. Tim had run an analysis on the chemicals, and of the possible combinations that could be made, the most probable use Talia would have was that of a Lazarus pit.

Not only had the al Ghuls discovered the pits, Talia had learned how to create them. Until he had heard that, Dick had thought it was impossible to recreate the powerful properties of the pit. They were a one time use only service, he had thought. Now, with an almost endless supply of chemicals to create them, there was no telling how many times she had used it. Or how many times she had forced Bruce to use it.

With Tim directly behind him, Dick reached the entrance to the cave. Standing, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. A moment was all he had. Dropping to the ground a split second before razor sharp kurumakens whizzed over his head, he silently cursed Talia' very existence.

Hearing Tim mumble a curse behind him, Dick knew his younger brother was safe. Jumping from his position, he back-flipped and somersaulted his way further into the recess of the cave. Tim was not far behind him.

Dropping into a defensive crouch, Dick waited for another weapon to be hurtled his way from invisible slats in the cave wall but no more came. Behind him, dozens of the deadly weapons littered the ground. Looking towards Tim, he waited for the sign that he was unhurt. At Tim's nod, Dick continued into the lair. The cave narrowed as they went, making Dick picture a bottle neck in his mind's eye. Even the ceiling sloped downwards.

"Definitely found the place," Dick mumbled.

Glancing behind him, Dick saw Tim nod in agreement.

The rock cave ended abruptly only to be replaced by steel and concrete. Taking out his electronic lock picks, Tim went to work on the steel door in front of them, the only entrance as far as they could tell. After a few tense minutes had passed, the door opened.

A dozen guards streamed out of the steel doorway. Spinning to his right, Tim caught one in the jaw and heard a satisfying crunching sound as he did so. Extending his bō staff, he broke the knee cap of another guard before ending the reproductive capabilities of a third.

The low ceiling of the cave made it impossible for acrobatics. Gritting his teeth, Dick pulled his escrima sticks from his back and started making crippling blows. He was in no mood to simply fight his way through the throng. He wanted to put these men down and make sure they weren't going to get up any time soon.

Concentrating on the shins and knees of his opponents, Dick soon felled the men surrounding him. As his last opponent collapsed to the ground he turned to see Tim break the nose and, in quick succession, the foot and a few ribs of his last obstacle to the doorway.

Nodding at each other, the two men crossed the steel threshold. Directly in front of them was an elevator and to their right an alcove for what looked to Dick like a stronghold of guards. There were no more men in ninja costumes, so Dick assumed the stronghold had been emptied.

Scowling at the elevator, Tim started categorizing the possible ways for a trap to lie at the bottom of the shaft. Entering the contraption, he immediately pushed the only button available and reached up to slide the top hatch away. Dick jumped through the opening first and grabbed Tim's wrist to pull him through. Replacing the metal piece so that only a thin slit for visibility was left open, they waited for the elevator to stop its descent.

As soon as the door opened, a hailstorm of bullets showered into the elevator. Narrowing his eyes, Dick gritted his teeth. Talia was really out for blood this time, he thought.

Tim pulled the hatch away as two men clad in traditional ninja garb, with the addition of automatic weapons, entered the elevator. Dick slammed the ends of his escrima sticks into the tops of their skulls. The blow wasn't hard enough to kill or permanently injure them, but they would have a concussion and heck of a headache when they woke up, Dick thought.

Jumping down first, Tim reached forward and grabbed the nearest guard. Using him as a human shield he pushed through the mass of bodies blocking his way. Getting close enough so that it was too dangerous for them to use their guns, Tim started taking them down. He was enough of a distraction that Dick was able to us backhand cartwheel to leap into the throng and start knocking people out before he was even noticed.

Over the clang over metal on metal and the crunch of bones, Dick heard a screech he thought could only belong to the lady of the house. Fury was written on her features as Talia watched the two young birds make their way into her sanctum.

Turning towards her bubbling and beloved pit, she stalked quickly to a control panel. An evil laugh escaped her lips as she slammed her fist into the release button.

At the sound of grinding gears, Dick looked up. His eyes widened as he saw a machine that had what looked like an oversized version of a quarter machine claw. Instead of holding an oversized stuffed toy, though, this held the ropes attached to his mentor and father.

A broken and bleeding Bruce hung, unconscious, from the claw. As Dick fought his way towards Talia, screaming incoherently at the top of his lungs, he watched as Bruce was unceremoniously dropped directly into the waiting pit below.

"No!" Screaming, he broke every man in his way to get closer to the pit.

Before he reached it, he saw Talia slit her throat and plummet in after Bruce.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Warning: Use of some adult language in this chapter. Please do not read if you will be offended. Also, although this chapter may be mildly depressing, please do not give up on this fic. I do promise a happy ending!

Chapter 19

There was pain and rage and a desire for absolute destruction the likes of which he had never felt. As mangled bone reset itself right and skin that had been scarred for decades re-grew itself, a scream erupted from his lungs. Hot liquid entered his throat and the sound died before it could leave his lips.

The cells of internal organs regenerated as weakened cartilage was made strong again. Sanity and the capability for rational thought were replaced with a fury so hot and blinding he longed to pound bone and flesh until it was no more.

An intense urge for air forced him to get to his knees, then his feet. As his head came above the liquid, all logical processes fled his mind. Grabbing a nearby ledge, he hoisted himself up and onto a clod concrete floor.

The first living thing to come near him was quickly killed. The second thing lasted a moment longer. As he reached for another creature made of bone and flesh, he was tackled to the ground.

Dick met him blow for blow, but he had never fought an enraged and insane Batman before. The man he was fighting did not have the weaknesses his father had; this man was in perfect physical condition and at the moment a perfect killing machine. This man had no reason and morals to force him to hold his hand.

He had no ability to think about the punches and kicks he was landing. Driven by sheer instinct and years of brutal training, he fought for all he was worth. A distant and too quiet part of his mind was screaming for him to stop, but he had no control. He couldn't stop.

The lack of control was suddenly terrifying and his blows slowed for only an instant. Some part of his mind that was still intact knew the hideousness of his actions. A tiny piece of him, a piece that remember his training and recognized the man calling his name knew he had to stop. Dick used the sudden opportunity to end the fight.

Lashing out brutally, Dick caught Bruce in the jaw and the sternum. Screaming in rage and grief, he lashed out until Bruce had fallen. Collapsing to his knees, Dick couldn't process the fight taking place a few yards from him. His arm was most likely broken, he was bleeding from his brow and lip and it was difficult to breathe due to his bruised ribs. Bruce had connected a few times, but even glancing blows had served to tear skin.

Dragging himself to his feet, he dared not look at the crumpled form of the man on the ground. If Bruce had not hesitated, Dick knew he would have been killed. At the moment a glint of recognition had been in Bruce's eyes, Dick had lashed out with more aggression than he had ever used before. He had been fighting for his life against the man he loved more than most people in the world. In the split second Bruce had recognized him, Dick had ended the fight. Grief and unexplainable emotions rocketed through his body.

Shoving all his feelings aside, he looked up to see Tim hitting Talia with the butt of a gun. She crumpled to the ground. Before she had the chance to recover, Tim injected her with a tranquilizer he kept in his belt.

Dozens of guards littered the ground. Some were dead, by Bruce's or Talia's hand. Dick suddenly found himself praying Bruce would not remember the killings.

"It'll be safer if we tranq him for the ride home."

Dick merely nodded at Tim's words. Numbness was taking the place of pain and he thankfully could not feel the full weight of his grief.

Before he knew he was speaking, he heard a cracked version of his own voice. "He would have killed me."

Standing up, Tim discarded the carpujet he had used to tranquilize Bruce. Swallowing hard, he realized he needed to respond to Dick. "Why didn't he," Was the only thing he could think to say.

"He knew me. For a second, he knew."

Nodding, Tim reached down towards Bruce again. "Help me get him outside."

Carrying Bruce was no easy task. He was heavy and cumbersome and both men carrying him were tired and battered. Dick was glad the adrenaline coursing through his veins prevented him from feeling the majority of the pain he was in. There would have been no way he could have carried Bruce with his arm in the condition it was if he had been able to feel the pain.

"Why did Talia jump in after him?" Dick cursed his tongue for speaking. He wanted nothing more than to sit in quiet.

"I guess she thought some of her personality would rub off on him in the pit. She was trying to make him into someone like her."

Nodding again, Dick set Bruce's back and shoulders down but sat on the ground to cradle his head. Recognizing that Dick was not going to say anymore, Tim left to retrieve the jet. Sitting on the cold snow covered ground, Dick felt the freezing temperatures touch the very core of his being. He was glad for the cold, though, it would help keep the swelling down, he thought.

The climb down the mountain was not as treacherous as the climb up. The moon was over the horizon and the stars twinkled in the night sky like sequins on silk. Darkness meant that Tim traveled slower than he would have normally. Swinging through the night air of Gotham was much different than scaling a mountain in the dark. The jet at the base of the mountain was untouched as Tim entered it and started ascending into the air. Hovering over Dick's position, Tim waited as Dick shot a grappling hook towards the aircraft.

Hoisting himself and Bruce over the edge of the aircraft, Dick shut the side door after them and leaned heavily against the wall of the cabin for a moment. As Tim slowly started to move away from the mountain complex, Dick strapped Bruce onto a gurney attached to the floor. Sitting on the floor next to Bruce's head, Dick didn't care if he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. His safety was the last thing on his mind.

Activating his comm. Link, Dick waited in silence for Barbara to speak first. When she did, her voice was quiet and subdued, almost as if she was afraid of what she would hear as a response to her question.

"Did you get him?"

Sighing heavily, Dick leaned his had against the bulkhead behind him. "We got him. He's tranquilized."

She hesitated to ask why, but did anyway. "You had to tranq him?"

"He fell into the pit. He was…uncontrollable."

"That's our Bruce, uncontrollable."

The tiny piece of humor made Dick laugh. Covering his mouth, he shut his eyes tight and tried to forget the images of Bruce ripping a man's throat out. Before he knew what was happening, hot tears were trailing down his cheeks.

After a moment, he collected himself to some degree. "Get Leslie to the manor. I don't know…how he'll wake up."

She could hear the pain in her husband's voice but knew there was no point in trying to talk to him at that moment. She was not going to call Leslie because of Bruce, though. She was going to have Alfred call Leslie so Dick and Tim could be tended to. She knew they would require medical attention, and Alfred would not be very willing to leave Bruce's side to give it.

"She'll be there by the time you guys get home. Fly careful."

Listening from the controls, Tim fought hard to keep quiet. When Barbara cut the connection, he finally spoke. "Do you think it's a good idea to have Leslie there?"

"What if he's…"

Tim didn't wait for Dick to find the right words. "He's been in the pit, Dick. He's perfectly healthy, literally."

His voice was above a whisper when he spoke. "She doesn't only treat the body, you know."

Sighing, Tim loosened the death grip he hadn't realized he had the controls in. "He'll be okay, Dick. I know he'll be okay."

He finally released his emotions, if in a small part, when he responded. "We don't know how many times they did that to him or how they tortured him. We don't know if he'll remember what happened. We don't even really know the physical repercussions of the pit, Tim! What if he isn't okay!" His voice escalated in emotion as he spoke.

Taking a deep breath, Tim waited a second longer than necessary to respond. "He's Batman, Dick. He's…"

Cutting Tim off, Dick's voice rose in tenor and strength. "Is that all he is to you? Hey, Bat Junior, he's my dad too! You unfeeling prick!"

Collapsing into himself once again, Dick shook with unspent sobs. Days of sleep deprivation and running himself ragged, both mentally and physically, were taking their toll. Part of him regretted snapping at Tim but part of him wanted to lash out and take revenge for the hurt and fear he had and still felt.

Tim wasted no time in responding. "You think I wouldn't be devastated if he woke up a different person? Huh? You think I want him to hang up the cape and cowl because of what happened in there?"

"It's not about the fucking cape and cowl!" Dick slammed his fist into the floor of the cabin as he spoke.

Barbara, who had been listening to the entire conversation, swallowed hard as she connected a new speaker. She had no words to comfort either of them at the moment. Each needed to hear something different and she knew of only one person who could calm both effectively.

A calm and gentle English voice caressed the tension filled cabin. "That is quite enough out of both of you young men."

Both costumed men immediately stopped speaking when they heard Alfred's voice.

He continued, "Master Bruce has been through more than either of you will ever know. I trust that both Batman and Bruce Wayne will still be intact when this ordeal is over. Trust in his strength and your love for him and each other, young men. Do not tear at others' throats at this time, when it is so necessary to come together as a family."

It was more than they had heard Alfred speak in one breath in years, Dick thought. The poignant and touching words served to calm his nerves enough that he mumbled an apology to Tim as he held Bruce's unmoving hand with his unhurt one. For Bruce, Dick thought, he would hold it together. Bruce deserved at least that much.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Climbing the steps to the manor, Connie silently followed Leslie as the older woman bypassed the doorbell and entered the great house. Nerves wracked her body and dozens of questions swam through her mind as she walked through the foyer to the staircase.

Alfred suddenly appeared from somewhere within the bowels of the house. He looked haggard; not as a gentlemen's gentlemen should look, Connie thought. At seeing Leslie was not alone, Alfred stumbled in his step for a moment. Frowning, he looked to Leslie, who seemed to shrug with her eyes and without moving a muscle of her body.

"We have moved him upstairs. He is resting comfortably. I will attend to him if you will see to the others. They are…not upstairs." Turning towards Connie, he was suddenly too tired to react to her presence in his normally tactful manner. "Dr. Marsters, it is a shame we meet under such circumstances. If you would like to wait…"

"Don't relegate me to a waiting room, Alfred! I've been a doctor my entire adult life, I think I help a little!" Her tone was harsher than she had meant it to be, but she had a feeling there was something she was not being told.

Clearing his throat, Alfred closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I know, Dr. Marsters, that you are an accomplished medical professional. Master Bruce is very particular where it concerns his health, I do not know if he would be comfortable being looked after by someone other than myself and Dr. Thompkins."

Crossing her arms across her chest, she narrowed her eyes. "So, you're a butler, cook, maid and medic? Where do I get one of you, huh, Alfred? You aren't going to tell me what happened, I get that, but don't stand in the way of me doing my job."

Turning up the stairs faster than either Leslie or Alfred could stop her; she nearly stomped to the first bedroom she saw. That was not his room. After flinging open a few more doors to no avail, she opened a door that revealed dark color curtains and carpet and a king size bed to the left of the doorway. Bruce was lying on his back, sheets around his waist, in the massive bed.

He looked as though he had been hit with a truck. Rapidly forming bruises covered his face and most of his torso that she could see. Taking a deep breath, she approached the bed. A small table had been set up next to the bed and an old fashioned medical bag sat on it.

Realizing he must have been sedated, he bit her tongue from muttering a string of curses. Unconscious patients couldn't explain where they hurt. It also made it difficult to perform any neurological testing, she screamed in her head. Putting her frustration aside, she went to work.

After a rather thorough examination, she bandaged his ribs, which were bruised if not cracked, she thought. At least she could tell that no pieces were floating around his chest cavity; that was a good sign. A butterfly bandage decorated one eye brow and his nose, which was thankfully not broken, and a variety of ace bandages covered his joints. His left knee and right wrist were rapidly swelling and she had bandaged an ice pack to each.

She knew enough to recognize that he had been in a fight. She had taken care of her fair share of gang members and violent crime victims. She knew the consequences of a fight when she saw one. The bruises forming on his arms were from blocking punches; she had seen the same marks on many women while working in emergency rooms.

As she covered him back up with the sheet, she felt a presence behind her. Spinning towards the young man she remembered as Dick, she tried to feign a smile and felt she failed. Dick was covered in bruises in well. The side of his head and chin were bandaged and his arm was wrapped in an air cast and hung in a sling. She recognized Leslie's work.

"He'll be fine," she said without preamble. "A lot of bruising and spraining, but he'll be okay." Putting the unused supplies back in the medical bag, she decided to venture out on a limb. "Was he so out of control, you had to sedate him? What made him fly off the hinge?"

Slightly taken aback, Dick recovered quickly. "What are you implying?"

Turing to face him head on, he could see a not very well concealed anger in her eyes. "Did he always beat you or is this just once and a while?"

Gaping at her, he wished someone would come and rescue him. He hoped she wasn't accusing Bruce of what he thought she was.

"Connie…he doesn't…I mean, he's never…" Stopping himself, he tried to find the right words. "He's never hit me in anger."

"It's for your own good, right? Is this why Leslie didn't want me here? She didn't want me to know what she's been covering up for Bruce? It's not okay that he beats you, even if you are fully grown!"

At the exact moment Dick wanted to melt into the floorboards, Alfred materialized behind him.

"That is quite enough, miss." Picking up the trash that littered the bed side, Alfred deposited the excess bandages and such in a trash can.

"It's not okay…"

He did not wait for her to finish her statement. "I said that is enough, miss." The finality of his tone scared Dick a bit. Alfred rarely resorted to speaking in such ways. "You do not, nor can you, know what has transpired here. Do not rush headlong into conclusions that are so incredibly false."

With a look from Alfred, she knew she had been dismissed. Standing, she nearly fell over herself to get to the door. To think, she thought to herself, she had feelings at one time for a man who could cause such destruction within his own family.

A croaking voice from the bed stopped her halfway through the threshold.

"Alfred?" His throat was dry and pained and his body felt as though it was made of lead. A part of his mind that still worked knew he had been drugged, but the majority of psyche didn't and couldn't care.

"I'm here Master Bruce. You are home and safe now. Rest, young man." Soothing the errant hair from Bruce's forehead, Alfred lingered near the bed for a moment.

When Bruce's eyes closed again, Alfred immediately turned to both people still in the room. With outstretched arms, he herded them as though his arms were Shepard's' crooks. Once all three of them were standing outside the doorway, Alfred closed the door halfway, so that he would hear Bruce if he called out again.

"It would be a wise course of action to make some tea, Master Richard. Please ask the good doctor to assist you."

Without waiting for a reply, Alfred had turned on his heel and closed the door behind him after entering Bruce's bed chamber.

Sighing, Dick dragged his one useful hand through his hair. Connie followed him in silence as he descended the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. Once Connie was seated at the kitchen island and the kettle was on, Dick collapsed onto a stool.

Breathing out heavily, he leaned his chin on his open palm and his elbow on the counter top. He was not going to be the one to break the silence, he told himself.

He didn't have to wait long for it to be broken. "So what actually happened?"

The look in her eyes was guarded and weary. He had seen that look before. She wouldn't believe anything he said, he told himself. And then, when he looked harder, he saw that she did desperately want to know what happened to them.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I think I could surprise you." A tiny smile graced her lips for a moment.

"I think you're a nice lady. You're smart and pretty and probably really fun to be around. I think Bruce likes you a lot. But right now, trust me; you don't want to be anywhere near this family. There's stuff going on you'll never understand." Standing, he went to take the kettle off the stove as she responded.

Crossing her arms, she scowled at his back. "Well I've been thoroughly insulted tonight. Why don't you have Cassandra come in here and give me dirty looks too? That would really top off my night."

For some reason, the humor of her words struck a deep chord in him. Laughing, he leaned on his good arm over the kitchen sink. A little more than a minute later, he was laughing uncontrollably and his tired legs threatened to give out beneath him entirely.

Pulling him towards the kitchen island and pushing him back into a seat, Connie suddenly wanted to ask about a history of mental disease in the family. Standing next to him until she was convinced he wasn't going to fall over, she waited for him to stop laughing.

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he sniffed and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I, umm, I don't know what came over me. It's just…it's been really stressful lately."

Nodding in response, she waited for him to continue.

"It's just, you know, when you go and go and go and never stop to take a breath and then when it's finally over you don't know where to go because you're so used to moving. You ever feel like that?"

Smiling sadly, she nodded again. "I feel like that most of the time."

Looking up at her with new eyes, Dick smiled his first real smile in days. "I see why he likes you."

"Well a lot of good that's done me. He kicked me out the other night and then disappears for days and now I'm patching him back together after one hell of a fight. What kind of life does he live?" The consternation must have been plane on her face, she realized, because he was laughing softly as she spoke.

"You really have no idea. Connie, this family…we're crazy. We're more than crazy…we're…out there. We're not even in left field anymore, we're down the river from the freaking ball park, you know? Seriously, you don't want in on this mess we call our lives." Shaking his head, he watched her reaction as he spoke.

Swallowing hard, she glanced at the table top before speaking. "No one lives forever. I'd rather live crazy and out there for a little while than mediocre for a long time. I'm not looking to ruin your lives. I don't even know if Bruce and I could ever be anything serious. I just…I just want to live life to the fullest and have a good time while I still can."

Leaning towards her ion concern, he searched her face for clues to the meaning behind her words. "What do you mean while you still…"

Dick never got the chance to finish his statement. Cass, Tim and Alfred entered the kitchen like a hurricane, each looking decidedly unhappy. At Alfred's raised eyebrow directed at Dick, Dick slapped his forehead. He had forgotten the tea, he realized. Sighing, he stood and put the kettle back on.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Tim looked no better than Dick, Connie realized. Trying and failing to come up with a reason all three of them would look as if they had been in a bar fight, she shook her head. Fatigue was claiming her rapidly but she realized that her stomach was growling too loudly to allow her to sleep. The sun was coming up, she could see the first rays of light through the kitchen curtains, and she hadn't eaten since the previous evening.

As if reading her mind, Alfred set about pulling foods from the refrigerator. A testament to his weariness, he allowed Cass and a battered looking Tim to help him. Cassandra liked onions in her omelets and no one else minded, so she was tasked with dicing them. Tim sliced tomatoes as Alfred scrambled the eggs in a large mixing bowl. He looked as though he was going to feed a dozen people.

Rising to pour everyone cups of tea, Connie didn't bother to ask where Leslie was. If she knew Leslie, the elderly doctor would be watching over Bruce until she was relieved. Handing teacups to everyone in the room, she took hers last and retook her seat.

The scent of vegetable omelets wafted through the kitchen as Dick put bread in the toaster. A good breakfast and a long sleep, he thought, were much needed. And then he would go home and hug his children and love his wife and patrol his own city. It was an excellent plan if he did say so himself.

Clearing his throat, Tim rubbed at the sore spot on the back of his neck. Someone had grazed him with what had felt like brass knuckles. Ninjas with automatic guns and brass knuckles, he thought; what would they come up with next.

Noticing Tim's actions, Connie rose and made her way to the freezer. Grabbing a hand towel on the way, she filled it with ice and twisted the top to form a homemade ice pack. Handing it to the sore looking young man, she was rewarded with a scowl and a suspicious glare from both Cass and Tim.

Rolling her eyes, Connie sat back down. Dick noticed her plight.

"Don't mind them," he said. "They're just cranky."

None of them looked to her as though they had slept in a few weeks and even Cass seemed to be sporting a few injuries. Connie could tell from the way she walked her ankle was sore. Shaking her head, she tried to stop wondering what could have happened to the entire family.

They ate in relative silence around the kitchen island. Alfred was too tired to demand they move into the dining room as civilized people would do. Admitting temporary defeat, he sat with the group and ate his eggs and toast without complaint.

Noticing she was about to fall asleep in her plate, Connie stood slowly as everyone started to clear their dishes away. Stifling a yawn, she looked around for a phone to call a cab with. Her own cell phone was at the bottom of her purse and she, for the life of her, could not remember where her purse was.

Smiling tiredly, Alfred gestured towards the kitchen exit. "There is a guest room prepared for you upstairs, miss. Please, rest comfortably. Dr. Thompkins will rest soon as well."

Realizing it would be rude to leave Leslie, she changed her plans of going home. Shaking her head, she held her hands up in a futile gesture of resistance. "No, really, that's alright, Alfred. Let me watch over Bruce for a little while so she can sleep."

Cassandra shook her head. "I'll sit with him. You sleep. You look like hell." With that, Cass turned and left the room.

Frowning after the young woman, Connie looked towards Dick for support. He seemed like the sanest one in the family.

"Don't look at me. You do look like hell. Cass is fairing the best of all of us. Let's all get some sleep." Rising, he started towards the door.

Dick almost resorted to bodily dragging Alfred away from doing the dishes. He swore that leaving them in the sink once was not a capital offense. After Dick, Tim and Connie begged him to leave the kitchen until he had rested some he relented and followed the group upstairs.

Leslie met them at the top of the stairs, smiling tiredly. Cass was already sitting straight backed and rigid next to Bruce. She had seen him beat up before, she told herself. She had seen him in worse conditions and situations. Haunting memories of his arrest and legal ordeal years previous came back to haunt her for a moment before she ruthlessly squashed the demons.

Though she had seen him in worse condition, Tim had told her everything that had happened. A grief she had only experienced after the first life she took nearly two decades previous gripped her heart like a vice. The Batman did not kill. He had taken two lives and Tim had said he had almost ended Dick's as well. She feared what would happen if he woke with those memories. Would he be the same man, she wondered.

Leaning back ever so slightly, she was the picture of controlled stateliness. Inside, however, she wanted to scream. Suddenly, she felt as lost as she had before she had learned to speak and love and be loved. Her future suddenly felt uncertain and turmoil started to carry her away.

Just as her heart felt it was ready to explode from her chest, he opened his eyes. Jumping forward, she grasped his hand in an immediate reaction, not realizing how odd the physical contact was for her.

"Bruce. Are you…do you need anything?"

Nodding, he took a deep breath before he spoke. The drugs were wearing off, thankfully, he thought. "Water. Please." Pushing himself up in bed, he accepted the glass she handed him from the night table.

Taking another deep breath, he flexed his muscles experimentally. About to throw the sheet off and stand, he stopped at the last moment, realizing he was not at all clothed. Frowning, he sat up and kept the sheets around his waist.

"I'm getting in the shower." At that, he looked at her pointedly.

She realized she was still holding his hand. Shaking herself mentally, she nodded, stood and left the room in one fluid movement.

Once the door was closed, he tossed the sheets aside and strode to the bathroom. He was sore, but certainly not as sore as he had been on previous occasions. In fact, he thought, he felt rather good. Even the burning in his chest on deep breaths didn't to seem to be as painful as previous times he had bruised his ribs. Turning the bathroom light on, he went straight to the shower and turned the hot water on.

About to take his bandages off, he caught his reflection. His hand stopped its movement immediately. His chest was bare and clean except for a few yellowish bruises forming. There were no scars. Touching his skin lightly with the tips of his fingers, his jaw slowly dropped.

Turning to look at his back, the memories of the previous three days slowly returned. The torture and the pain slowly started to enter his mind and he was flooded with memories. Then came the memories of feelings. He remembered the feeling of being in the pit, of climbing from it. He had no memories of what happened after that, but the blood lodged under his finger nails spoke volumes.

Swallowing hard, he removed his bandages with shaky hands. Breathing hard, he stepped into the shower and closed his eyes tight. As quickly as his mind worked and processed, he could not at the moment fathom how his life would be affected by being submerged in the pit.

He didn't hurt, he realized. His back and knees didn't ache with their normal pains. One knee hurt slightly and his ribs ached but he could see the causes of those pains. When he stretched his arms above his head, his shoulders moved and his muscles stretched. There was no popping sound.

Stepping out the shower he shaved quickly. Dressing even quicker, he practically ran down the stairs and into his cave. In bare feet, track pants and a short sleeve t-shirt; he started into his training room.

Half way through the first training program he felt as though his brain was going to explode. He was faster, he was more agile, he was stronger. He had the conditioning he had as a thirty year old man with the experience of a fifty year old man. He had thought, ten years ago, he had been in the best condition of his life. Now, he realized, he was better than he had ever been.

At the highest setting, he felt as though he had energy to spare. Normally, an ice bath to treat micro tears and decrease the soreness he would feel the next day. Pacing back and forth through the cave, he glanced furtively at the clock and wished for night to fall faster. He couldn't go out in full Batman regalia at nine in the morning, he told himself.

Breathing hard, he paced faster. Ideas of retirement seemed now to be completely ridiculous. At this rate, he thought, he wouldn't retire until he was seventy. It had taken twenty five years for his body to be so degraded he thought he would have to stop being Batman. Now, he realized, he would never have to stop. He would die in a hail of gunfire as he had imagined as a young man.

Stopping that dangerous train of thought, he stalked back to the training room. Using a special override code, he programmed the computer to go beyond the hardest setting it had been originally programmed to use. Pushing through the pain in his ribs and the slight ache caused by recent bruises, he fought with every fiber of his being.

Diving into a barrage of sailing razors and laser fire, he couldn't help but smile a sad and sadistic smile. He would never have to stop. He would never have to stop, he thought again. That mantra played throughout his head as conflicting emotions tore through his newly perfected body. The pinnacle of human ambition indeed, he thought.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"I just didn't think you'd leave her there is all. I'm not criticizing you, Dick."

Sighing, he wanted to fling his arm over his eyes but couldn't because he had to hold his cell phone to his ear. A few hours of sleep had ended abruptly when he awoke in a sheen of cold sweat after a particularly horrendous nightmare. Calling his Babs had seemed like the only way to put the demons to rest. Instead, he thought, he was getting an ear full about how he had run his mission.

"What did you want me to do? Go back and carry her to the plane and bring her back here? What would we do with her?"

Her tone was sarcastic but loving at the same time and he wondered how she did that. "She is wanted for murder, you know."

"As if that would stick."

At her sharp intake of breath, he knew he had said something stupid. "Dick, what if we all thought like that all the time? We would be dealing out our own brand of justice on a nightly basis because hey, 'the system is so broken who cares,' right?"

Groaning into the phone, he suddenly wished for some of Alfred's tea spiked with sedative. That had always put him to sleep after a bad night when he was younger.

"Babs, come on, I don't think like that. I'm a cop, for pete's sake! I work for the system! I just…I'm just tired and delusional and thinking about you naked. I can't think straight when I'm in that state of mind. I can barely remember my own name."

Laughing uproariously, she instantly forgave his slip of the tongue. "All right short pants. If you're up to it, come home. I miss you."

Stopping to consider that offer for a moment, he shook his head, as if she could see that movement, he scolded himself. "You come here. Leave the kids with Jim for a day and come here. Your dad can bring them here tomorrow."

"He doesn't have time, Dick, you know that. He sees them less than Bruce does." They both heard the sadness in her voice as she spoke.

"Just call and ask him, Babs. Either way, come here. I don't want to leave Bruce just yet, not until he wakes up and I figure out where his head is. Come here and be with me, Babs."

Sighing, she acquiesced to him. "I'll call my dad and pack the kids up. It's Thursday, though, Dick, he'll be at work. And it's early. I don't think he can take a full day off, but I'll ask anyway. Either way, though, I'll be there. I love you short pants."

After hanging up with his wife, Dick stood and stretched. A quick shower and a change of clothes later he felt almost human. Padding down the hallway he stopped at Bruce's door and opened it just a crack. His jaw dropped to his chest and his heart plummeted to his feet when he saw the empty room.

Turning, he made his way towards the cave and hoped he and Cass were sparring or talking or playing Parcheesi. Images of Bruce throwing himself over the edge of the cavern and into the river below briefly flashed threw his mind. No, he told himself, he wouldn't do that. He would rather torture himself for a hundred years about the lives he took than end his own life, Dick thought. Dead people couldn't constantly remind themselves of their failures and Bruce seemed to love to do that.

A breath of sheer relief escaped his lungs when he saw Bruce beating a specialized mannequin to a pulp.

"What did that thing ever do to you?" Dick smiled through his words but his heart was wrenching with fear.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Bruce looked up at his son. It seemed to him as though he hadn't seen Dick in years. Suddenly, the child was grown up and standing in front of him as a man instead of a precocious preteen with the tenacity of a wolverine.

Squashing the sudden sentimentality, Bruce mentally shook himself.

Just as suddenly, it occurred to Bruce he had yet to check the current date. For all he knew, it had been years since he had been kidnapped. It had seemed almost that long during his captivity. "How long was I gone?"

"We got you back the end of the fourth day."

"Not long then," he mumbled.

Dick caught the softly spoken words. "Not too long, I guess. How…umm, how are you holding up?"

Cursing his lack of words, Dick wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. When it came to heart to hearts with Bruce, he was no good at it, he thought.

"I'm fine. I'm…better than fine."

Nodding, Dick took a deep breath. "Right…you got rejuvenation as a parting gift. Free with your purchase of a few days of torture."

Smiling feebly, Bruce sat on one of the vaulting horses. "It's different. It's new. It's me but it's not…I'm not sure how to explain it."

"I think I get it." Dick said softly.

Dragging his hand through his hair, Bruce looked away for a moment. "I look forward to reading your report."

Knowing how lame he sounded, Bruce wanted to kick himself. He had meant to tell Dick he looked forward to discovering how his charges had found his location and rescued him. He had meant to tell Dick how proud he was it had only taken four days for them to find him. His inability to talk to his own son made him cringe. At times he thought he was as emotionally retarded as Barbara sometimes told him he was.

Nodding in response, Dick cleared his throat. "Connie came last night. With Leslie. She bandaged you up. Connie, not Leslie. We didn't call her…she just kind of came. Anyway, she's still here." At Bruce's fierce look, he continued a little quicker. "She doesn't know anything. We didn't tell her how this happened and she let it drop."

Clenching his fists, Bruce stared at the far wall. She was a problem that would have to be dealt with, he thought. Clasping Dick on the shoulder as he passed, Bruce started back towards his bedroom. He needed to shower again, he realized, and he needed a quiet place to think.

Once back in his room, he closed the door and stripped his shirt off. On his way to the bathroom, a soft knock came on his door. He didn't answer it immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away. He had no such luck.

Connie opened the door every so slightly, thinking that perhaps Bruce was still asleep. As tired as she was, she was also well trained. Long hours working in emergency medicine had trained her to wake and check on her patients at regular intervals.

Seeing him standing in the middle of his bedroom, she gasped a little but didn't leave. "I'm sorry," she said, "I thought you were still asleep. I just came to check on you."

Clearing his throat, he spoke more gruffly than he had intended. "I'm fine now. Thank you."

When she didn't leave, he turned to face her fully and watched as her eyes drank in the sight of him. He couldn't help but smile to himself. "Was there something else you wanted?"

She wanted to tell him exactly what she wanted at that moment but refrained herself. Instead, she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked him in the eye again. He did look amazing, though, she thought. Most men did not look like that. Every muscle was finely chiseled and defined but still looked natural. He looked like soft steel that begged to be touched.

"You took your bandages off," she finally managed.

Stepping a bit closer to him, she saw there was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin even though the room was not warm. Immediately, she approached him and put the back of her hand to his forehead.

"You might have a fever, you're sweating."

Taking her hand away from his forehead, he looked down into her eyes as he spoke. "I'm fine. I was just going to shower."

She did not pull away from his grasp. "I should take your temperature."

Shaking his head, he let her hand go. "I don't have a fever, really. I'm going to shower." Turning, he walked towards the bathroom but turned again when the telltale sounds of her leaving the room did not reach his ears.

"Oh, right. You're showering. You don't need help with that. Of course." Laughing derogatorily at herself, she frowned at her stupidity. "Right then."

Turning on her heel she left as quickly as her dignity would allow.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: I just wanted to say that I LOVE BM/WW ships. I have read some excellent shipper stories and I have great respect for the authors who write them. Please do not take offense to the comment in this chapter poking a little fun at the obsession we all seem to have with those two characters together. I myself have dabbled in writing some stories that deal with that particular couple. Anyway, first do not offend, so I thought I would add this note. Thank you all who have been reading and reviewing, I so appreciate it!

Chapter 23

"She is tenacious."

"That is one word for it, certainly."

Smiling at Alfred's tone of voice, Leslie sipped her tea. He was cleaning the dishes he had left in the sink nearly six hours previously. She was forbidden from helping him, but still enjoyed giving him company.

Crossing her ankles, Leslie sighed. "She is headstrong and very willful, Alfred, but she has a good heart. She is normally very easy going, actually."

Frowning slightly, Alfred was glad his back was to Leslie. The expression on his face was certainly improper, he thought. "I believe she is a very good person at heart. I do not know, though, where her place is in Master Bruce's life. She seems to have inserted herself rather further than most before her have, but she is still a stranger in a foreign land, as they say."

"You don't know where she fits. I think she doesn't know that either." Pausing a moment, she smiled at memories that came unbidden of Bruce as a young and happy child. "I think she'd be good for him."

"I get the feeling, Leslie," Alfred said, "that there is more to her than she allows us to believe."

Agreeing, Leslie responded. "She is like Bruce in many ways. They are both guarded, deeply introspective people. Perhaps she is what he needs, his female counterpart in many ways."

Turning towards her for a moment, he spoke in his most hoity tone. "Most people on the internet seem to think that title belongs to Wonder Woman."

She was too shocked for a moment to respond. When the shock wore off, she started to laugh. She laughed long and hard and had to wipe her eyes as they started to tear.

When she finally got her breath back, she dabbed her eyes with a cloth napkin. "Oh, Alfred, you are too much for me sometimes."

Drying his hands, he finished with his task and sat across from her at the kitchen island. "I do hope Master Bruce has enough sense to treat her as ought to. It has not always been so in the past."

Sighing, she sipped her now tepid tea. "He has a habit of pushing the best of them away."

About to respond, Alfred paused when he saw Barbara wheel into the kitchen. Hiding his surprise well, he stood and made a start towards the stove.

"Sit down, Alfred, please. I'm fine. Dick called me this morning when he couldn't sleep and asked me to come. So, here I am. Where's my insomniac of a husband?"

Retaking his seat, Alfred smiled. "I believe he is asleep. Where, may I ask, are your young imps?"

Chuckling a little, Barbara turned herself towards the doorway. "My dad took them, said it was an excuse not to do any more overtime. I have to go find my man."

Wheeling through the living room and towards the elevator few people knew existed, she waited patiently while she was transported to the second floor. Yawning, she continued down the hallway and to the bedroom that had been Dick's since he had been eight years old.

At the threshold, she cracked the door open only slightly and peeked inside. Sure enough, he was fast asleep, sprawled on his bed. Entering the room, she quietly closed the door behind her. Trying her best not to wake him, she hoisted herself onto the bed. Leaning on her elbow, she stroked his hair with her free hand.

He stretched and yawned and turned on his side towards her. "Hey there, you. I was starting to think you'd never get here."

Grinning down at him, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear for him. "Dad took the kids, after a little convincing. Did you get to talk to Bruce?"

"Yeah, I talked to him. He seems alright, all things considered. I meant to wait for you."

"Don't worry about it. Where's the doctor?"

He knew just who she was talking about. "I don't know. I lost track of her before I talked to Bruce a couple of hours ago."

"Hmm…it could be a good sign she's still here."

"I guess so. I think she just passed out, though. It was a rough night all around." Stretching, he groaned as his muscles silently complained.

Her eyebrows went up as she watched his body arch off the bed. Leaning closer to him, she put her lips to his while his eyes were still closed. Deepening the kiss, Dick pulled her torso closer to his while sliding his hand beneath the back of shirt. Her smile was enough to encourage him to continue.

Smiling knowingly as he passed their bedroom door, Bruce shook his head in slight amusement. He snuck through the house, careful to avoid any living people. The beginning of the day had passed quickly and without much event and he was anxious to start his nightly escapades.

It was still early in the afternoon, and he hoped that Connie would have either gone back to sleep or left the manor all together. He didn't quite know what to say to her. Her reaction to his physique had taken him slightly off guard; it had been quite some time since he had been unclothed in the presence of a lady other than for medical purposes.

In addition to dealing with her physical desire for him, he had to consider how he was going to answer her questions concerning how he had come to be beaten and sedated. Bruce didn't delude himself into thinking she would stop her inquiry only because she had embarrassed herself in his bedroom. She seemed more determined than that to him.

Outside, the sun had reached its peak for the day and the air was beginning to cool. Spring had been unnaturally warm. Knowing Alfred, Bruce thought, there would be a large meal set on the table and a call to dinner in a few hours. Before then, there would time for purposeful activities.

His mind stopped categorizing those activities as he passed the living room. Through the room, he could see straight to the patio door and through that he could see Connie. Even from so far away it was clear how the sun was shining off her blonde locks and her skirt was billowing about her thighs. She had changed, he realized.

Clearing his throat he made a start to continue on his way when she turned and caught his eye. Catching his breath, he smiled back at her as she waved him over. Nodding once in response, he turned into the living room and towards her. Part of his mind was kicking and screaming, demanding to descend to his cave. The other half of his mind was tuning the screaming part out.

"You look better," she said as he stepped through the glass doorway.

He grinned ever so slightly as he leaned against the outside wall. "I feel fine, really. I'm sorry Leslie dragged you out here."

"It was no trouble. I'm sorry you took all the bandages off, I hope you plan on keeping those cuts clean." She gestured to his head while she spoke.

Clearing his throat, he nodded to her again. "I promise to avoid infection, doctor."

Taking a seat on a padded chaise lounge, she ran her fingers along the wooden slats of the arm. "Whatever or whoever beat you and your boys up, I hope they look worse than you did."

Concealing the shock on his face was no easy task and he could tell from her sardonic grin he hadn't quite managed it. "Thank you for your confidence in my defense skills," he finally said.

Her smile grew ever so slightly. "I have no doubt about those skills, Bruce. Oh no, those aren't the skills I doubt."

Raising an eyebrow, he decided to meet her challenge. "What is it you do doubt about me, then?"

"I'd say mainly your people skills, though I think you fake them rather well."

He was struck dumb for almost a minute while he stared into her challenging visage. She was smiling, but the smile did not reach her dark eyes. She was surely challenging him, he thought.

"I'm sorry that's how you feel and I apologize if I've offended you in any way." Being polite was always a safe tactic, Alfred had taught him.

Her smile faded entirely then. "You haven't offended me," she lied, "I just like to think I'm not as easily fooled as most people."

"That isn't the first time a woman has told me something similar to that," he responded.

"But I'm sure this is the first time one of those women has actually had the brain power to back that statement up."

Narrowing his eyes, he couldn't resist the bait she was throwing. "You're certainly hostile today. Not enough sleep, perhaps?"

"I'm not hostile," she snapped, "I just don't like being jerked around."

Standing to his full height, he looked down at her with a glare close to that he used while in his fighting suit. "I appreciate your services this morning, doctor, but I don't think I will be requiring them again."

Turning on his heel, he was through the threshold quicker than she could respond. Clenching her fists, she wondered when their conversation had taken such a horrible turn and kicked herself for being nasty. Slapping her forehead, she rose. It was time for her to go home, she thought.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Dinner had been tenser than he would have liked, especially after everyone realized Connie had left without as much as a goodbye. Automatically, it had been assumed that something he had done had caused her behavior. Unwilling to defend himself or explain the conversation he had with her, he had stalked down to his cave to wait for sundown.

It hadn't come soon enough for his impatience, but it had come. Now, standing atop Wayne Enterprises, thirty-five stories above the ground, he tried to push all such thoughts out of his head. He was Batman, he told himself, and he was now at the peak of his life.

Jumping from the building ledge, he let himself fall a second longer than he normally would have. Feeling the line catch on the next building, he swung through the air as adrenaline started to surge through his veins. Normally, the exhilaration of flying was bracing and exciting. This night, however, he felt more alive and invigorated than ever before.

Hours later, he crouched, frowning and looking down at the scene below. He could hear snippets of conversation as medics loaded gang members on stretchers and into ambulances. Since the death of the Joker, Batman had learned, smaller gangs had started vying for control of the city.

Now one of those gangs was defunct and the medics were complaining about it. Scowling, he told himself he hadn't been too rough or harsh with the men he had incapacitated. Shaking his head he silently called the paramedics ungrateful and swung through the night.

Uncharacteristic rage filled him as he swooped on top of a would-be rapist. When the mans' bones cracked and blood covered the knuckles of his gloves, he turned ever so slightly to see the woman behind him. She cowered, as if afraid of him, in the corner of the alley.

Most people feared him. Throughout his career, though, it had seemed that those he saved lost a small amount of their fear for him as time went on. In the past few years, he had received hesitant smiles and a few out right thanks. This woman's reaction was not new to him, but he had not seen it in some time.

Releasing an almost animalistic growl from his throat, he took off into the night again. His blood felt too hot and his mind was racing as he started for home. Excusing himself was easier than he thought it would be. Almost too easy, a tiny voice inside his head said.

In most instances, he would analyze his actions and determine where exactly he could have made a better decision or acted in a sounder manner. On this night, he did not attempt to analyze his behavior. His cloudy mind could not begin to fathom what had happened to change him. A part of his rational brain was now locked away.

Sleep evaded him. Pacing back and force through his cave, he clenched and unclenched his fists. A deep need for action, for force, clawed at his innards, but he could not understand how to satisfy that need. Like a vague craving, he knew there was something he needed, wanted, but he did not know exactly what it was.

Frustration made him grind his teeth as he paced faster and faster. Robin and Batgirl had long ago arrived home and gone to bed; the feed to Oracle was cut so she could not hear him mumble to himself. He was alone and knew he would not be disturbed. The sun was rising, he knew, and he would have to start his day as Bruce Wayne in a few short hours.

Those hours passed in an agonizing way. He could not concentrate on the passage of time; he no longer knew exactly when a certain amount of time had passed. His internal clock was askew. Confused in a way he could not understand, he ignored his mounting internal disarray and stalked to his bedroom.

His steps were not measured and clipped as they normally were. The exact control he had over ever fiber of his being was slipping and his body no longer was reined by his computer of a mind. Dressing quickly, he bypassed the kitchen entirely on his way out the door. It was still early for Bruce Wayne to start his day, but he could no longer tolerate inactivity.

Before eight in the morning had arrived he was sitting at his desk shuffling through papers he could not concentrate on enough to read. Words floated across the page like super quick centipedes as graphs swirled like water in a drain.

He did not know how much time had passed when Lucius entered his office. He did not know how long Lucius stood before his desk before he finally registered his presence.

"You're in early today, Bruce." The cautious look on Lucius's face would have, under normal circumstances, been an alert.

Smiling tightly, he responded, "I figured I'd catch up on some work."

The turmoil inside of him did not show on his face. The raging tornado in his body and mind was contained by his nearly half a century of training. Only his slightly quaking eyes were an indication of the fusillade of feelings and thoughts inside of him.

Nodding, Lucius smiled cautiously. "Alright, well, if you need anything today, Bruce, you just let me know."

"Sure thing." His voice was far away and sounded as though someone else had spoken it.

He was in a glass encasement; he could see outside of it but no one could see him. He was screaming and thrashing against the sides as a tumult blew him about inside the tiny enclosure. There wasn't enough room to move or air to breathe but no one could see him inside his glass cage.

His hands were someone else's as they moved and typed and shuffled. The lips speaking to his secretary were not his. Screaming internally, he fought to keep his hands from shaking at the end of day. Only a tiny part of himself recognized there was something wrong. Only a fraction of his mind could acknowledge he was no longer acting or thinking or perceiving as he normally did.

Stalking immediately to his bedroom when he arrived at the manor, he suddenly realized he did not know how he had gotten home. He did not remember driving but he knew he had exited a car that was in his driveway. A part of him wondered if he had ever left the driveway and if he had imagined his day in his office.

Locking the door behind him, he stood staring at his hand on the doorknob as the sound of his erratic breathing filled the room. Swallowing hard, he turned slowly towards the bathroom. The door was a mile away, at the end of a long tunnel. With one arm outstretched, he walked very slowly to the bathroom. The journey took hours, it seemed. Perhaps, his mind screeched, he had always walked just this path all his life and he had imagined anything that did not involve this walk in this tunnel.

Downstairs, Alfred gripped a dishcloth so tightly he thought for a moment he would break his own hands. Feeling the same way he had felt when Bruce locked himself in his cave for a month when trying to break his venom addiction, Alfred closed his eyes and prayed. His boy was now locked inside a different kind of prison, he thought. This one was not made of rock nor was his exile self imposed. This, Alfred thought, was like nothing any of them had ever dealt with.

The thought scared him nearly to death. Praying harder for his adult charge, he hoped with all his might that Bruce would climb from his pit of insanity as he had climbed from the Lazarus pit. Yes, he thought, as he had told other members of his family, Bruce had recovered from worse. He told himself Bruce would recover from this as well.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Sighing, Connie continued to stack gauze packs. "I don't want to talk about it, Leslie."

It had been two days since she had left Wayne Manor with her tail between her legs. Tomorrow was her day off and she planned to relax; rehashing her argument with Bruce was not on her agenda. Knowing that talking about it would only sour her mood, she strove to avoid the subject.

Sighing again, she looked out into the night through the small window and tried to think about less depressing topics. Leslie did not look as though she was going to give Connie any reprieve, though.

"You have to excuse him, Connie, he was not himself."

Shaking her head, she started out of the storage closet and towards the front desk. "I don't have to excuse anything, Leslie. He was rude and I was equally so and I don't think either one of us is going to apologize."

Following her through the halls and into the waiting room, she tried to reason with Connie before the younger woman left for the night. "I just don't want to see you two mad at each other, it would hurt my old heart."

Turning to her incredulously, Connie cocked her head with a smirk. "Don't play the age card, Leslie. Really, you're above that."

Smiling tiredly, she nodded. "Holding a grudge only hurts the holder."

"Have a good night, Leslie; don't work too hard."

With that, Connie left through the front door and descended the steps to the sidewalk. The night was warm and Connie shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and over her arm. Her sleeveless knit top and Bermuda shorts kept her cool enough as a soft breeze blew across her uncovered skin. It was nearly twenty blocks to her apartment but she thought the walk would do her good.

Sighing, she tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled her ponytail holder from her hair. Combing her fingers through her lose locks, she tried to smile. There was no reason to frown, she told herself. It wasn't as if she had broken up with a beau or divorced a second husband.

He was simply a spoiled and odd grown rich kid with a superiority complex, she told herself. Although he was incredibly well conditioned and obviously very strong as well, she thought. Not only physically strong, no, he was mentally strong as well. It had taken some time to realize that he had carried himself as though as his ribs weren't bruised. Few people could tolerate that kind of pain with such grace.

She had to wonder at the dichotomy of his being. He was, at the same time it seemed, an emotionally shallow, insensitive flirt and a highly self contained, intelligent man. She was confused as to whom he really was; he seemed to pretend to be many things.

The man she had first flirted with on a balcony and the man she had spoken to on a patio a few days ago were not one in the same. He had evolved into an entirely different person so quickly she could hardly keep up with the changes.

Sighing, she turned the corner of her street and listened to the slight squeak of her tennis shoes on the concrete sidewalk. Gasping at the sudden wall in front of her, she looked up into the scarred face of a young man with an obviously bad attitude.

"Oh, I, uh…I'm sorry," she stuttered.

Trying to walk around him, she was stopped by a vice like grip on her arm. No, she thought, she lived in one of the safest neighborhoods in Gotham. Her area had the lowest crime rate even though she lived on the edge of the wealthy area. No, this couldn't be happening to her, her mind screamed.

Breathing suddenly rapidly, she looked up at him with wide eyes. She wasn't sure if having seen the aftereffects of muggings and rapes scared her more because she knew what would happen to her if she lived through an assault or if she was less scared knowing the likely worse outcome.

About to speak again, she stopped short as the young man spoke.

"You the lady that works at doc Thompkin's clinic," he asked.

Nodding mutely, she was sure her fear was written plainly on her face.

"I owe you one."

As suddenly as he had appeared, he turned and left her shaking only a few feet from her doorway. Swallowing hard, she put her hand to her chest as if to slow her furiously beating heart. She was sure she had never seen that man before and she was also sure she had no idea why he owed her anything.

Turning to her door, she felt as though her legs were made of jello. The doorman greeted her and she managed a semi intelligent reply as she continued to the elevator. Once inside her apartment, she locked the door with fervor and practically collapsed on the couch.

Grabbing a pillow to her chest, she tried to tell herself she was making something of nothing. He hadn't threatened her at all, she told herself. Shaking her head, she pulled her favorite afghan around her and buried her head into the soft fabric of the couch. She wondered, not for the first time, if heroes did actually exist in Gotham and if one of them would have saved her if need be.

Rolling onto her back, she started at the ceiling above her and closed her eyes. A single hot tear trailed down the side of her face and onto her earlobe. Catching her breath, she tried to contain the waters that threatened to break from the dam of her self control. There were no heroes and no one would save her, she thought.

Myths and fairy tales and grown men in stupid costumes were the heroes of Gotham. Her personal saviors, her intellectual snobbishness and ability at wit were the only things that could save her.

Denying herself the luxury of screaming, she instead stood and stripped her clothes off as she walked to the bathroom. A trail of clothing led, breadcrumb style, to the white tiled bathroom and glass encased shower-tub.

Standing under a spray that made her skin tingle and turn red she stared ahead with unseeing eyes. Demons floated around her head and laughed at her weakness. The faces of those who had died in front of her opened their hollow eyes and screamed accusatorily.

Vaguely recognizing she was experiencing the beginnings of a mental breakdown, she took a deep breath and tried to claw from the pit of despair she was being sucked into. One trigger, she thought, was all it took to send her spiraling into hell. One scary looking man with a scar above his lip sent her careening into a sea of torment.

Shaking her head, she pounded her fist against the tile. Tilting her head upwards, she imagined the water pouring over her, washing away her uncertainty and doubt and fear. She would be her own hero, she told herself. No more chasing unavailable men just for kicks and thrills. Time to grow up, she whispered aloud, because no one was going to save her but herself.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

There were whispers that Batman had gone off the deep end with Joker's death. He could hear paramedics and cops alike talk amongst themselves when he loitered at a crime scene. They seemed to think his methods had taken a turn for the more severe, he thought. Even Robin had cringed when he witnessed Batman's new style of vigilantism.

Well, he thought, maybe it was time for something more severe. Landing on the rooftop of the police headquarters he stayed in the shadows until he ascertained who exactly was standing near the lit signal. Jim, alone, was standing, hands in pockets, staring at his scuffed shoes.

"You called."

Jumping a little, Jim shook his head. He would never be used to that, he thought. "Yeah. I uh, I needed to talk to you about something."

As usual, Batman was straight to business. "What's the case?"

Clearing his throat, Jim tried to contain his nervousness. Even after over twenty years of working with Batman, he still found some conversations difficult. "Your methods these past few nights, Batman…"

At the narrowing of the eyes of the cowl, Jim took a deep breath and started again. "You've been kind of heavy handed lately. Some of my officers are concerned for their own safety. A few are even upset about the way they've found the perps you've been leaving."

Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes further. "My methods have never been accepted, I don't expect that to suddenly be a problem."

"Well, it wouldn't be if there hadn't suddenly been a change. Word on the street is you haven't been working with your partners lately. You've gone solely, rogue, they're saying." His strength built as he spoke.

"Who's saying?"

"Guys in lock up. Listen, I don't tell you your business, you know that. We've worked together too long, been through too much together, but I'm…uh, worried, I guess."

They stared at each other, each without moving or blinking for some minutes. Jim was hoping Batman wasn't having a mid life crisis and Batman was wondering how roughly to respond to what he deemed an insulting concern.

"My methods are the same as they've ever been. If your people have a problem with how I work, tell them to stay out of my way."

Taken a little aback, Jim made a step forward as Batman turned to leave. "I talked to some of your people," he swallowed and hoped Batman wouldn't realize immediately he meant Barbara. "I don't know all that happened, but I got some stuff. If you…"

Twisting around violently, Batman's voice changed from rough sandpaper to ground glass under foot. "Stay out of my way and my business, Jim."

With that, Batman took the last few steps to the edge of the building and jumped off. Loosening his collar a little, Jim breathed a deep breath. An angry Batman was not something he wanted to deal with at the moment, or ever, if possible. Shaking his head, he truly hoped what Barbara had hinted at wasn't true. Jim knew Batman prided himself on never taking a life.

Soaring through the sky, his anger built and bubbled within him. His rage had been building through the past few nights, he knew. His rage was uncontrollable and unquenchable. He did not know how to satisfy himself, he had tried to throughout the past nights.

Landing on a rooftop, he heard Robin land behind him. His protégé had followed him from the police headquarters and he had decided it was about time to confront Robin as to why. Both men stared at each other, unflinching. Robin was finally the first to break the silence.

"What's going on with you?"

Gritting his teeth, Batman fought the urge to pummel his young student. "What are you talking about?" He finally managed to ground out.

"Your erratic behavior. You won't talk to anyone out of the suit, so I've had to resort to speaking to you now." Taking a step forward, he repeated, "What's going on with you?"

"This conversation is over, Robin." Turning to leave, he heard the approaching footsteps behind him. In a sudden surge of panic, he turned towards the sound and lashed out.

Gasping, Robin ducked just out of reach of flying fists. Too stunned to do anything more than block, he assumed a defensive position and tried to keep the worst of the blows away.

"Batman! Stop!" Fear was creeping into him and Robin was hard pressed to find words to speak.

Flashing images played before his eyes as Batman lashed out. It was not Robin in front of him. A primal scream escaped his lungs as he fought the men who had tortured him. Fear paralyzed his mind as he felt himself drowning in a chemical pit.

Fighting now for his life, Robin activated the emergency beacon on his belt. Oracle would immediately be notified and hopefully, he thought, send reinforcements. Taking a blow to the side of his face, he rolled to the ground and brought his leg up hard.

Batman seemed not to notice the hit to his shin. Rolling over himself, Robin righted his body on his feet and started attacking. It was only a few minutes, he thought, and his body was burning. He hadn't had to fight so hard in a very long time. Pushing through the fear and doubt he made sure he would not be the only one with bruises in the morning.

Catching Robin's fist with almost super-human strength and speed, Batman pulled violently. The younger vigilante stumbled forwards, thrown off balance, and landed directly in Batman's grasp. Grabbing the reinforced throat of Robin's suit, Batman stopped as suddenly as he had attacked.

His lips were slightly parted and his hand was still chocking Robin, keeping much needed air from the younger man's lungs. His hands were ripping the throats from living beings. His fists were driving into his sons. His lungs were heaving as he clawed desperately at his suffocating insanity.

Dropping Robin to the ground, he barely heard the choking gurgles and gasping breaths. Distant sounds of Robin calling to him as he threw himself from the rooftop played at his consciousness.

Tires screeched as he careened through the streets with the Batmobile. Driving with pure instinct, he didn't see or hear the surrounding traffic. Parking haphazardly once in the cave, he clawed and tore at his cowl and suit until it lay scattered in pieces on the cave floor.

Scrubbing his hands with bleach and near boiling water, he stood in his underwear in front of the sink in the bathroom of the cave. Images blurred and melded together until he wasn't sure what was reality and what wasn't.

A voice was whispering murderer in his head. Images of blood gushing from open wounds and hollow eyes starring at him invaded his mind. He did not know if he had tore Robin's throat open. He did not remember if he had killed again. Time blurred and his breathing hitched as reality tore itself in two.

Staring at himself in the mirror, he saw haunted eyes that did not belong to him. He saw the face of a man who killed and he suddenly realized the craving he had experienced had been momentarily satisfied as he held Robin by the neck, ready to steal his life. Terrified, he heard the shattering glass even before he realized he had slammed his fist into the mirror.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"I thought the insanity was temporary!" Pacing back and force, Dick held his mask in one clenched fist.

"So did I," Tim rasped.

His throat was going to bruise badly and he felt the swelling start. Swallowing another anti-inflammatory Barbara handed him, he winced as the hot tea slid down his throat. He hadn't realized choking nearly to death was so painful.

"That pit wasn't natural," Barbara said, "Talia concocted it. We don't know if it was different or if it could have different side effects. Just because the chemical composition was the same…"

"Doesn't mean it was an exact copy of the original," Dick finished for her.

Nodding, Barbara rubbed her eyes and was thankful for small blessings; the children were asleep and Tim was still alive. Having this conversation, she thought, within ear shot of two small children would be unbearable and it was a conversation that needed to be had.

Tim cleared his throat before speaking. "What are we going to do?"

Wincing, Dick looked to his younger brother and shook his head. "It hurts me to listen to you speak right now. Please, no more talking for you." Still pacing, he continued, "We have to do something. Babs, is he still out there?"

Sighing, she looked to her computer and shook her head. "No, he's in the cave. He has been since before you and Tim made it back here."

Nodding, he tried not to think of what Bruce was going through. "Okay, as long as he's there, we've got some time. He…he can't be in the suit, that's obvious. Not until his head's in the right place again."

At Tim's look of disbelief, Dick held his hands up in a gesture to stop Tim's response. "Yeah, I know, he tried to kill you; it's a little more than getting his head in a better place."

Slipping the mask on, he started for the balcony. "I'm going to talk to him."

"No you're not!" Wheeling forward, Barbara spoke with vehemence. "You can't walk into that cave without backup and no idea what you're getting involved in! He's lost it, Dick, and as much as I believe in your abilities, I don't want to see you go up against him!"

Swallowing hard, Dick stood a few feet from the night sky. He knew he could leap now and catapult himself over the edge of the balcony rail. He also knew he could damn his marriage if he did that. Taking a step towards his wife, he licked his suddenly dry lips.

"If we all go, he'll feel ganged up on, and Tim is not the best person to talk to him right now. He'll talk to me. He needs help, Babs."

"I know that, Dick, but he might need more than we can give him."

His spine immediately straightened as his brain rebelled at her implication. "I won't commit him. He isn't crazy, he's lost. There's a big difference."

"I know that!" Slamming her fist onto the armrest of her wheelchair, she looked away suddenly. "I know he isn't crazy," she said in a calmed voice, "but he does need help. If the pit is still affecting him…"

"It could wear off! This isn't permanent!"

She fired back, "You don't know that!"

Standing stalk still, he tried to keep the feeling of his heart breaking from showing on his face. "He isn't crazy. I know him and I know how I'd…how I think I'd react if I suddenly remembered and no one told me…"

Tim stood very quickly, "this isn't out fault," he said, "you can't blame us for not telling him what happened! We were all hoping it would just go away and it obviously…"

He had to stop as his raspy and abused throat rebelled at his speaking so forcefully. Coughing, he leaned onto the back of the couch as he tried to stop from hacking.

"Take it easy, Timmy…" Gently patting Tim's back, Dick sighed heavily. "It didn't go away. It didn't blow over and he didn't repress it. He remembers something. His reaction when he was about to…well, I know something clicked. I have to talk to him. Alone, in that cave, I don't know what he'll do."

"We don't know what he'd do to you, either, Dick." Staring into the lenses of her husband's mask, she hoped he could see her desperation for him to not go alone.

"He won't want anyone else brought in on this…" Dick started to say.

"Superman," Tim finally rasped when he could breathe again. "Call Clark. No better backup for this."

"What about me?"

Three eyes turned towards Batgirl, standing with her arms across her chest on the balcony. "I'm not involved," she asked.

Dick sighed again. "You are…sorry Cass, we should have called you."

Shrugging, she leaned against the doorjamb and scowled. "He isn't crazy."

"You aren't objective," Barbara snapped.

Standing to her full height, Cassandra suddenly looked ready to pounce. Dick hoped he wouldn't have to pull her off his wife. That would be bad, he thought.

"Whoa, ladies, take it down a notch. Cass is right. He isn't crazy and she needs to be involved with this. She and I will go." Cutting Barbara off before she could speak, Dick continued, "We need to go and you know it. It isn't right to pretend nothing's happening. This family is too good at that and it always comes back to bite us in our collective asses."

Turning back to her computer, Barbara simply nodded. She recognized Bruce's stubbornness when she saw it and Dick was displaying it rather nicely, she thought. This was not an argument she was going to win. Flicking her wrist a few times in a gesture Dick recognized as meaning he should leave, Barbara stared at her computer terminal. Refusing to meet her husband's eyes, she listened as he and Batgirl left through the open window.

Tim stayed seated on the couch, holding his mask in one hand. He felt as though he had been hit by a truck. His heart was in his throat and his stomach had dropped to somewhere near his knees. Refusing to name the emotions rummaging through his tired brain, he waited and listened for word from Nightwing.

It wasn't long before they heard Dick sigh over the radio connection.

"He's gone, everybody. There's no sign of him here."

"What?" Typing furiously, Barbara ground her teeth together. The locating beacon Bruce wasn't supposed to know existed in his cowl was reporting his location as in the cave. "He's there, Dick. The signal…"

"Is coming from his cowl. He, however, is not here."

Swearing, she slapped her forehead. Of course he would do something none of them had thought he would do. In times of crisis, his cave was his safe haven. It was only now, she realized, that he wouldn't be there; the one time she needed him to be.

"Where else would he go?" She heard herself asking.

"Cass is checking upstairs now," Dick responded.

It was ten minutes before they knew unequivocally that he was not in the Manor. Alfred had joined the search to find that his dresser drawers had been rummaged through and the bathroom shower had recently been used.

Cursing to herself, Barbara swallowed hard before her suddenly sluggish fingers starting typing a command to her operatives. Sending out an APB to Black Canary and Huntress, she explained they were to canvass the city for Batman.

"Find and follow only," she explained. "You report in if you see him and then you keep your distance."

"What aren't you telling us, Babs?" Helena sounded in no mood to be lied to and Barbara almost winced at her tone.

She tried to speak in as a no-nonsense tone as Helena, but found she was too tired. "Need to know only. Now find the Bat."

Cutting the links, she put her head in her hands and tried to stop her lungs from exploding. A soft hand on her shoulder reminded her she was not alone.

"We'll find him," was all Tim could think of to say.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Nightmares had woken her through the night. Shrugging her coat on, she told herself she was insane for going back onto the street. Her apartment was suffocating her and she excused herself by thinking of picking up a morning paper and having an early breakfast at a bakery.

The sun was only peaking over the horizon. The streets were empty and the bakery wasn't open yet. The temperature had dropped during the night and it seemed it was always coldest in Gotham just before sunrise. Strolling, she wrapped her light jacket closer around her. The early morning air was crisp and the light fog swirling lazily through the city made he think of old Hollywood movies.

The Gotham Park was not far from her neighborhood and she did not visit it as often as she would have liked. The trees cast the slightest of shadows in the blue morning light and the water of a stream gurgled happily.

A long bridge over a deeper area of the creek where young people gazed romantically and children tried to catch the nonexistent fish led to a deeper part of the park. Starting the trek over the bridge, she yawned into the back of her hand and listened to her shoes squeak on the dewy concrete.

Stopping suddenly, she cocked her head to the side, a look of confusion on her face. Swallowing, she toyed with the idea of turning back. A part of her mind whispered he was an apparition and she was obviously insane. Taking a cautious step forward, she licked her dry lips and softly called his name.

Turning almost violently at the sound of his name on the wind, he looked at her as though he had never seen another human being before. Dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans and wrapped in a camel color knit jacket, she looked eerie. The fog moved around her feet and made her white shirt glow. Her hair was messy and hung around her shoulders. He couldn't decide if she looked like an angel or a ghost.

"You're a long way from home." She did not step closer to him but kept her distance.

Nodding slowly, he had to try and find his voice. "I needed some fresh air."

Taking a cautious step forward, she hugged herself tighter. "There's no air at Wayne Manor?"

"No…there's not." His voice sounded far away and he wondered if he would ever find his sanity in its entirety again.

Approaching him slowly, she stopped a few feet away and leaned against the bridge, gazing into the black waters below her. "I thought I would be alone out here."

Nodding, he gripped the ledge tighter. "Me too. It isn't safe to go out alone, you know."

"And yet here we are; both out alone." Her smile was sad but he barely noticed it.

White noise seemed to crowd his head and fill his ears as he opened his mouth to speak. "Everyone is always out alone."

Turning to look at him, she frowned. There was something definitely wrong, she thought. "That's very existential of you. Very insightful."

"An insight into myself or the world?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she found herself relaxing. "Both, I think." Nudging closer to him, she had to stop herself from laying her hand on his arm. "Are you alright, Bruce?"

All he could do was shake his head. Words seemed beyond him suddenly and his body seemed to beg to crawl into the nearest hole and curl up forever.

"You should go home. I'll call you a cab." Reaching for the purse slung over her shoulder, she jumped as his hand grasped hers.

"No," he said, stopping her movement, "I can't go back there yet."

Taking her hand away from her bag, she nodded. "What happened, Bruce? Why can't you go home?"

His voice was a whisper. "I can't tell you."

Nodding again, she set her hand on his forearm. The pressure was so light she wondered if he knew her hand was even there. "Come back to my place," she found herself saying. "You can't stand out here all day."

"Is it day?" Looking into the sky, he squinted. He couldn't remember if it was day or night or how long he had been standing there. It could have been weeks and he wasn't sure he would know.

"Bruce...are you…have you taken anything tonight?"

Finally looking into her eyes, he frowned. "Taken anything?"

"Drugs…alcohol…have you taken anything?" She asked again.

He couldn't help the short laugh that escaped him. "No. No, I haven't…taken anything. I just…need to clear my head." He finished lamely.

Looking into his eyes, she saw a hollowness she had never before seen in him. Patients who had recently experienced great trauma sometimes had the look of a hollow shell. She knew it was due to the brain's inability to process an incredibly large amount of damaging information in a short time. It was frightening to see such a look on Bruce's face.

"Come on," she said while she took his hand. "You can rest at my place."

They walked in silence and he only occasionally wondered why he was going with her. A distant part of him recognized that he already knew her address; he had researched her before going on their first date. Hew had enough of his wits about him not to mention that, though.

Riding the elevator, he thought about the previous times he had followed a woman to her apartment. It had been a while, he thought. It had been a long while. Following her through the open door, he looked around quickly, noting the exists and placement of the furniture.

Smiling a little, he tried to remember when such observations were not automatic and natural. Perhaps, he thought, when he was still a small child and had not yet begun his training. That thought led to others, less pleasant in nature yet still concerning his childhood. Sensing that the emotions were playing on his face, he slammed a door down over his features to contain them once again.

She saw the sudden play of emotions on his face and the just as sudden flash that drove all such signs of life from his expression. He was suddenly a blank slate and she found herself frightened. Only serial killers could do that, she told herself.

Clearing her throat, she took herself into the kitchen to make coffee. Filling the carafe at the sink, she jumped as she turned around. He had followed her, entirely silent, into the kitchen and was staring at her in a most unnerving manner.

"I'm making coffee," she said in one sudden breath.

"I can see that," he responded.

They stood in silence for a few moments before she realized she was still holding a carafe of water and started towards the coffee maker again. They continued in silence until she finally turned to him and leaned against the counter behind her.

The smell of fresh coffee started to waft through the kitchen and it was a comforting scent. His eyelids were heavy and he very abruptly realized he had not slept in days, since he had woken from his drugged unconsciousness. He did not know how long ago that had been, but he knew it had been longer than he normally withheld sleep from himself.

Feeling a sense of nausea that only struck him when he was very sleep deprived, he took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"I think…I should call a cab now."

She looked hopeful as she spoke. "You're going home?"

Shaking his head, he responded slowly. "No. A hotel, I think. I, uh, I need some sleep."

He looked drugged, she thought. His eyes were sunken and in the harsh light of the kitchen she could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Here," she said as she took his hand and lead him through the kitchen, "you can lay down here."

Semi-afraid he would pass out alone if he went to a hotel, she opted to keep him where she could at least monitor him. She knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if he was strung out and died in a hotel room after leaving her apartment.

Sitting next to him on the bed, she slowly started to unbutton his shirt. Catching her hands, he looked into her eyes with a blank yet demanding expression on his face.

"You can sleep here. You'll be more comfortable…"

She didn't have to finish her sentence as he finished removing his shirt of his own power. She stood and turned her back as he removed his pants and climbed beneath the sheets of her queen size bed.

Turning to look at him when she was sure he was covered properly she stood hesitantly. His eyes were already closed and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically. Dragging her hand through her hair, she breathed slowly and turned back to the doorway.

Making herself comfortable on the couch, she was taken aback by the thought that she actually felt safer with a possible stoned serial killer in her bedroom than she did when she was alone. That was disturbing and pathetic, she told herself. Shaking her head a little, she yawned and closed her eyes. It wasn't long before sleep claimed her.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: This is the second to last chapter of this story! Thank you so much for all the reviews and thank you to all those who have read this story. There will be a sequel in a very short amount of time after this story is completed. Thank you again so much and I can't wait to read the reviews!

Chapter 29

"Damn coffee…" she muttered to herself.

She had left the machine on while she slept and not only was the coffee now burnt, but it resembled sludge more than any actual beverage she had ever seen. Dumping the offending liquid into the sink, she sighed as she washed the carafe.

Turning to the coffee maker once again, she glanced up at the man standing in her kitchen doorway. Leaning against the doorjamb, he was watching her as she went about making something that could be called breakfast, even though it was closer to noon.

"Sleep well?" She asked.

Nodding, he sat at the kitchen table and watched the coffee brew. Frowning, Connie watched him while a feeling of increasing uneasiness came over her. Abandoning her attempts at making a meal, she sighed. Clearing her throat she licked her lips and sat across from him.

They stared at each other for a minute before she spoke. "You have a great plastic surgeon."

His slightly knit brow was enough of a reaction to spur her on. "Well, I didn't notice it the other night, after your accident. There were a lot of things I didn't notice then, actually. Anyway, though, you were gone for a few days and you come back…well, looking like you do."

He waited a few moments before responding. Even though he wasn't at his top mental speed, he knew he was treading in dangerous waters. "How do I look?"

"Ten years younger." Standing, she crossed her arms across her chest and started to pace the kitchen. "You walked like a man that wasn't hurt and I know for a fact you were. You look ten years younger but a hundred older at the same time…Bruce!" She said in exasperation, "There is so much bullshit going on here I don't know where to start!"

Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep breath. "You couldn't begin to understand, Connie."

Her eyes widened as her face reddened. With shaking hands, she gripped the edge of the counter top behind her. Thoroughly insulted, she wondered just how loud their conversation was about to get. "You sanctimonious bastard. What wouldn't I understand? Huh? You prep school pretty boy jackass!"

Standing suddenly, he moved so quickly her breath caught. Standing above her, he rose to his full height and put one hand on either side of her, effectively trapping her between him and the counter. "You don't know a damn thing about me, you mental snob."

Name calling was childish and also somehow satisfying, a tiny part of brain recognized. "You trust fund yuppie! Don't pretend as if your life is so complicated I can't possibly understand it!"

"You can't! It is that complicated!" Suddenly realizing how close he was to getting very angry, he backed off a step. "You have no idea who I am," he growled.

Scared and yet strangely excited, she swallowed hard. "Then tell me so I know."

He couldn't understand why he was suddenly breathing hard. She seemed to be doing the same. Her smell was intoxicating and her slightly parted lips seemed to beg him to kiss her. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to turn away from her and failed. "What do you want from me?"

"Honestly?" She asked. She was sure he would want the answer, but she decided to give it to him anyway when he nodded in response. "When I first came to Gotham, and when I first met you, I wanted to sleep with you."

"And now?" Did he want the answer? He was so overwhelmed with memories and feelings, he wasn't sure if he could handle if she asked for something he felt he couldn't give.

"Now I just want to figure you out." It was true, she reflected. She had a desperate desire to understand who he was. He was so complicated and she felt so deeply inserted into his life in such a short period of time that she knew she had to understand who he was.

He shook his head and finally managed to turn from her. He wanted to leave but he didn't want to go home. Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair as his shoulders drooped. He had been trying to keep from thinking about how his life would change with his recent revelations. It was too much to think about, he thought. It was too complicated. His head was too fuzzy, he told himself. Until he was operating at a higher level of functioning, he needed to keep from concentrating on his new place in life, if he had one.

"I should go," he said softly.

"No, don't." Reaching out to him, she stopped the movement halfway and looked away suddenly. "Don't go, Bruce."

Turning back to her, he cocked his head to the side and studied her. "Why are you so interested in me?"

Her traitorous tongue responded before her brain had processed a response. "Because I've met a lot of people and you aren't like any of them. You…you aren't easy. And I've always enjoyed challenges." She looked up into his piercing blue eyes and tried to will him not to leave.

He simply nodded, as if considering a business proposition. It was a few moments before he spoke. "Coffee's done," was all he could say.

Nodding, she turned silently and took two cups from the cupboard. Setting them on the counter, she poured the coffee and tried to think of something to say to him that would mean anything. She didn't come up with anything good.

"You take it black."

He nodded at the observation and accepted the cup. Looking at her with a questioning eyebrow raise, she smiled.

"I noticed when I had dinner at the manor."

"You have a good memory." He knew he was more vulnerable than he had been in many years and that this woman in front of him unnerved him like few other women could do.

She nodded before sipping her coffee, also black. "I do; lots of training."

He nodded back to her. They sat in amicable silence for a few moments while she traced the rim of her cup with her forefinger and he stared at her doing it. Connie wanted to ask a thousand questions; Bruce wanted to remain in silence. The silence only held for a few minutes.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "You…are infuriating. I just want you to know that. I get it if you're not interested in anything romantic, even if it's just sex. That's weird, but I can live with it. But your absolute inability to communicate is infuriating. I think you're either lying or skirting around something and that makes me want to find you out even more."

When she had finished, he just stared at her. When he realized she wasn't going to get nervous under his glare he swallowed the last of his coffee and stood from the table. "I have to call Alfred, he probably thinks I…well, he thinks I've gone crazy."

"Have you?" Her question was simple and he was sure she had no idea how difficult it was to answer.

"I don't think so. Not entirely, anyway."

Smiling for the first time that morning, she looked at the table quickly before meeting his eyes again. "Maybe it's just a mid-life crisis."

He had to laugh at that, if only for a second. "I suppose you could call it that."

With that, he turned to her living room and sought out the cordless phone. Taking the device into the bedroom, he closed the door behind him. Sighing, Connie watched him go and she poured herself another cup of coffee. Smirking, she swirled the liquid in the cup and tried to pinpoint just when she had become so involved with Bruce.

It was only a few minutes later he emerged with the phone and put it back in its cradle. He didn't look happy, she thought, but he didn't look sad either. He had the strange neutral visage she found unnerving.

"How'd it go?"

Pouring himself another cup of coffee, he frowned at her question. "About how I expected it to."

"I can only imagine," she mumbled.

Sitting back down, he stared at her again. "You want me to stay…but I'm sot sure I should."

Standing, she came around to the other side of the table and leaned against it to look down into his eyes. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

The close proximity of her to his body was enough to heighten his senses. "Sure…but I don't really want to be any of those places."

"Perfect…" she mumbled. Before she could think, she had inclined her head towards him and their lips were meeting.

Grabbing her waist, he pulled her into his lap until her hips was against his midsection. Crushing her to him, he ground his lips into hers. The pain and passion that had been coursing through his body and heart poured out through his lips and he was sure they would bruise when he was finished with her.

Breathing hard, she pulled away just long enough to tear her shirt over her head. "I want you," she whispered into his ear. Even if he was a strung out mid-life crisis having serial killer, she thought, she did want him. She desperately wanted him.

Growling into her lips, he stood in one fluid motion and swung her into his arms. Carrying her through the living room, he deposited her none to lightly once in the bedroom. Crawling over her splayed form, he growled from low in his chest.

The pain and rage and confusion welled inside him and he knew if he did not find an outlet in that moment he would go insane. Gabbing her and bringing her close, he crushed her lips to his once again and decided she would be the perfect way to loose himself. He needed to feel something other than pain, he thought, and she was the perfect way to do that.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Raking a hand through her hair, she tried to sort through the myriad of unsettling thoughts scattered in her mind. They had slept for a time after making love, but Connie had not awoken rested. For a moment, she had been blissfully happy. After the moment had passed, however, she realized what she had done.

She had fulfilled her goal and bedded Bruce Wayne. The sex had been amazing and his face had looked so peaceful afterwards that she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face. When she had awoken to the sound of the shower running through the open bathroom door, she had not immediately panicked. It had taken a minute or two.

Pacing throughout the room in her bathrobe, she bit her nails and rebuffed herself. Her goal had been to sleep with the man and now that she had, she thought, she was starting to regret it. She had gotten to know him too well and sex was not just sex anymore, she told herself.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Bruce rubbed his wet hair with another towel before draping it around the back of his neck. He had woken before Connie and for the first time in days had felt clear headed; he felt like his old self.

Part of him had to laugh at himself, though he did not consider the situation funny. His options, it seemed, were to either kill someone or have sex. He was pretty sure he would rather choose the latter rather than the former.

Putting thoughts of Talia and the pit and the atrocities he had committed out of his mind, he tried to focus on the fact that he was clearly thinking and no longer enraged. Grinning, he told himself he would bring Talia to justice and find a way to redeem himself in his own eyes and the eyes of his sons.

Today, though, he told himself, he would simply have to reconnect to sanity. He had enough of his wits about him to know he needed to be in a healthy frame of mind before facing Talia once again. If he could not control his anger, as he had not been able to do in the past days, he would surely do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

There was no sense in going after an insane and murderous person if he himself was insane and murderous. He would have to gain his sense of himself as Batman before he could actually try and perform that role again. He was ready to get back to his home and meditate for a good long while before he started to train once again.

Connie was pacing through the bedroom. Scowling, he wondered just how inappropriate it would be to pick his clothes up off the floor, dress, and leave. By the look on her face, he judged it would be a very bad thing for him to do.

"You need to go," she whispered as soon as she saw he was in the bedroom with her.

Stopping in mid motion of sitting on the bed, he stayed in mid air for a moment before finally finishing the action. Breathing slowly through his nose, he looked at her with his confusion written plainly across his features. "I don't understand…"

She did not let him finish his thought. "You need to leave, Bruce. I'm sorry. This was…this was a big mistake."

Standing again, he went to her and took her arm. Going over everything he had said to her since he had seen her on the bridge in the park, he tried to remember if he had said anything offensive or offhanded to her. Failing to understand the reason for her sudden change in demeanor, he turned her towards him and looked into her eyes.

"Connie, did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if…"

"No," she interrupted, "no, you didn't do anything wrong. This was just a big mistake and you need to…to go before…" She seemed to loose her energy as she spoke.

"Before what? Connie, what happened? I obviously missed something."

Pulling from his grasp, she shook her head and distanced herself from him. "It was too much, Bruce. Everything…seeing you hurt and vulnerable and last night…and then we had the best sex of my life…my whole life. Bruce, it's too much. It was supposed to be just sex…"

The shock on his face was apparent and she turned away from him as he spoke. "Wait a minute…I thought you wanted to have sex. I thought you were…you seemed interested."

"I was! I was interested, but it got to be too much! I'm in too deep, Bruce! You have to go before I get in any deeper!" Tears were starting to form in her eyes and they started to threaten to spill onto her cheeks as she spoke.

"What are you talking about? Connie…" He suddenly doubted his own sanity again.

Throwing her hands in front of her in a gesture of total defeat and frustration, she screamed, "I can't fall in love with you!" Breathing hard, she felt hot tears streak down her face.

He was shocked into silence for a few moments before he found his voice again. "I didn't think we were going to…to fall in love, Connie. I never said…"

Cutting him off again, she shook her head hard. "I know you didn't say anything about it! I know…" Sobs wracked her as she tried to speak. "I'm saying it…you were so funny and witty and you flirted and…you're gorgeous! You're complicated and strong and I don't get you and that is everything I could love about you! I can't do…I can't do it…"

Collapsing onto the bed, she buried her face in her hands and wept. He had known he would hurt her in the end, but he had never imagined they would part ways like this. "Connie, I'm…I don't want to fall in love. I don't want to marry you or make sweeping statements of commitment. I want to have…I like talking to you. This doesn't have to be more than a casual relationship."

He didn't like the words coming out of his mouth. He had never had to say them to anyone before. Most women tried to convince him into either a casual sexual relationship they hoped would lead to marriage or, the more honest of them, tried to get him to marry them right away. Receiving the exact opposite of that argument was disorienting.

She shook her head and quietly begged him without looking up. "Please just go, Bruce. Please just go."

Anger was eclipsing his confusion. "Connie, you have to explain this to me. Make me understand what happened here!"

"No! No, Bruce, I can't!" Standing, she stalked to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance between her and Bruce as possible.

"Why not?" He knew he had roared at her, but he could not convince himself to care. Following her to the corner of the room, he grabbed both her wrists and brought her face very close to his. "What is going on?" He asked in a low and dangerous voice.

"We can't be together…"

"I'm not saying we should be…" He started.

Shaking her head, a sob escaped her as she spoke. "But I'm so close to falling…I could, Bruce. If I hadn't seen so many sides…if I didn't know…you're not who you pretend to be," she finished lamely.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He asked.

"If I fall in love with you…Bruce, if we fall in love…it would be…"

He cut her off, "Is this about your ex-husband? Connie, I'm not the marrying type, really. Even if I were, Connie, I wouldn't hurt you like that."

Her voice was a whisper as she responded. "I'll hurt you."

At the tone and sound of her voice, he dropper her wrists. He spoke in a suddenly calm and soothing voice, recognizing the pain and fear written on her features. "What do you mean, you'll hurt me?"

She swallowed hard and looked away. "I can't get involved. That's why I picked you. I thought…I read the tabloids and I listened to what they said and I didn't realize. I didn't know you Bruce and then I met your family and I saw the way you were last night and I can't figure you out and I know that means you are so much more than what you make people believe. There's just too much to you and the more I get to know the more dangerous this becomes…"

Pulling away from her, he shook his head. "You need to stop playing with me, Connie. Tell me, now, why you are so frightened of this."

He didn't want a relationship. He wanted to heal his mind and spirit and kick the living daylights out of Talia, he thought. He wanted to patrol his city without fear of loosing control. He wanted to help people and fulfill the mission he had set out for forty years ago.

In addition to those wants, though, he knew he needed to know the thoughts behind her neurosis. He had to understand this intelligent, beautiful and deeply broken woman. A part of his male ego could not stand the sting of rejection, especially when there was no reason for said rejection.

Her parted lips quaked and her eyes widened. Her lips moved of their own accord as his eyes seemed to draw the words from her bosom. "I'm dying," she finally managed.

The emotions that traversed his face were lightening quick and unidentifiable to her tear blurred eyes. His eyes widened and then hardened in quick succession. He seemed hurt yet deeply engrossed in a calculation at the same time. As if, she thought, he was trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth by cataloguing evidence to support her statement.

"You're what?" His voice was carefully calm and devoid of emotion. As if pulling his hand of cards very close to his chest, he held his emotions in check.

"I have cancer…" Her voice was soft and for a moment he thought he had misheard her.

At her stricken face and raspy voice, he approached her. Doing the only thing he could think to do, he pulled her into his arms and let her cry on his chest. He could feel the hot tears trail down his bare skin. She sobbed and shook in his arms and as he lead her to the bed and pulled her to him so they could sit, he realized with a sudden sick feeling in his stomach that Connie had been right.

The possibility of falling in love with her was too great. She was everything he thought a woman should be, and that meant she was everything he could not have. Kicking himself mentally, he knew that forcing her hand meant that he was now trapped. He could not very well leave her now that he knew the truth behind her fears.

Closing his eyes, he warred with himself. He should go away from her, he said internally, and never come back. The other part, though, wanted to comfort her and save her and stay with her. Both parts were in agreement that leaving would mean he was a selfish and unfeeling bastard.

Sighing quietly, he rested his cheek on the top of head and whispered comforting things to her. He had never been good in situations such as these, he knew, but from somewhere within himself he remembered kindness and comfort and he strove to emulate it in that moment.

They rested together as her crying slowly calmed and then stopped altogether. Even when she had no more tears left to cry she let herself he held by the strong and gentle man who had his arms around her. Inhaling his scent and entwining her fingers in the hair on his chest she allowed herself to feel, for a moment, safe and secure. In his arms, she told herself, she was protected, and at the moment that was all she wanted from him.

* * *

A/N:

There will be a sequel, for those who are interested; just give me a few days to polish it! Thank you all who have read this story and a special thanks to those of you who have reviewed it! I so appreciate it! It took me years to work up the nerve to write this and I was happy with the response of the readers. I can't wait to read the responses to this chapter and I look forward to posting the sequel!


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